The Immerlis Family,
third floor,
study.
Kallen kept staring at the candle. Its blue flame flickered from time to time, yet the study's doors and windows were all shut. No wind could possibly get in.
The feeling of being watched persisted. At first, it came from two corners of the study;
yes, two gazes!
Kallen was certain that two gazes were watching him.
At first, they regarded him curiously;
then, they began observing him earnestly;
next, they seemed to fall into some sort of contemplation;
now, their gazes were gradually growing milder.
The initial pressure and tension were gradually receding, and the feeling of sitting on pins and needles had vanished;
Kallen's posture, too, shifted from ramrod straight to something more comfortable.
His back rested against the chair, his hands settled on the armrests, and although his gaze never left the flame, his legs had naturally crossed.
The flame before him was like a painting, and Kallen watched its ceaseless "dance" with an appreciative eye;
at the same time, he knew that he, the viewer of the painting, was also a painting in someone else's eyes.
It was difficult to describe this atmosphere in concrete terms,
neither cold nor chilling;
just the right measure of reserve, a slightly hesitant restraint;
perhaps it left you a little at a loss, yet it could also bring a certain peace and quiet reassurance.
The candle
had burned halfway down.
You would not think it burned too slowly, because each day did not feel like a year;
nor would you wish it burned any slower, because there was no need.
The burning candle gave off no black, white, or yellow smoke, but something else rose tangibly with its burning: acceptance of whatever came.
Oak Cemetery.
Alfred was controlling his emotions, trying his best