Shopping with Zephara

For three days, the task had been both my torment and my meditation. Seventy-two hours had passed, each one marked by the flicker of a new flame. Ten candles stood proudly alight, their small fires a testament to my persistence. Yet, with only four days remaining, the weight of the unlit wicks grew heavier.

The room, once a sanctuary of solitude, now felt like a prison. But if at the beginning I was super motivated now I couldn't take it anymore. Each attempt to ignite another became a battle against the creeping tendrils of despair.

" One more effort." I said, reaching for the candles.

"Light, please," I whispered, my voice a blend of plea and command. Four candles responded, their flames dancing to an unseen melody. Exhausted, I collapsed onto the wooden floor, its coolness a stark contrast to the warmth of the tiny fires.

How many times have I tried to light all these candles without success. It's clearly getting on my nerves.