The Moment Before

I struck the match in the dark.

The sound was louder than I expected.

A sharp snap.

A crack.

Then the scratch of friction.

The spark came before the light.

I saw it before the flame took hold.

A moment of chaos.

Fire deciding whether to happen.

Then the small orange point.

The candle caught it.

The light spread.

The apartment was no longer dark.

But that moment before—

that half-second

when the match was on fire

and the candle wasn't—

that's where I stayed.

In the moment between

the possibility and the thing itself.

The match burned down.

I felt the heat getting closer to my fingers.

I didn't move it.

Waited until the very last second.

Until I had to.