Of Cakes and Candles

“Happy birthday to you!” sang the throng in the hall in whose centre I stood beaming, with the usual slight awkwardness. Despite the ‘I-don’t-know-where-to-look’ dilemma, happiness was filling me like helium fills balloons. I could almost feel myself lifting off the ground to join the red and blue and yellow ones sticking to the high ceiling. I didn’t need a wish! I had all the people I loved around me on my special day and they were here for me. They had made their way to me, squeezed me into their rapid, crowded schedules. As the singing, albeit off-key (but who cared), fizzled out, the lights around me dimmed, making the candles on the three-pound, chocolate mud cake before me spread their orange-y glow seep out. I still didn’t need a wish, but, taking a panorama around the room, I closed my eyes for a customary one anyway.
I closed my eyes and blew out the solitary candle on the cupcake on my bedside table, plunging my tiny, one-bedroom flat into complete darkness. Turning over, I pulled the covers over my head on my narrow single bed and went to sleep. The cat didn’t come back tonight either.