Little Thieves Crying in Your Arms

A candle is an amateur burglar. Set it by a window and it lets itself be blown out. Lock it in the bathroom and it crashes through the walls and wakes the children, who run around screaming bloody murder. Question it and it gets shifty, cagey, sputters its words. It’s suspicious as hell, it’s always casing, and the little bastard steals all but the most obvious things in plain sight, even when it’s just having polite conversation in an otherwise dark room.