— Fiction —

The Warning Label I Recently Neglected to Read

Trim wick to ¼ of an inch even if finding your scissors will require you to open that scary junk drawer next to the sink.

Do not place on a crowded bookcase with unread books, unsent postcards, and year-old mail piled precariously all around.

Do not leave an open can of turpentine directly below those teetering books after repainting the wall where you recently splattered red wine as a result of tripping over a shoe.

Do not let your comforter, composed entirely of synthetic materials, spill over the end of your bed by the bookcase so that it’s comforting more floor than mattress.

Do not answer the phone at 9:37 p.m. and accept a spur-of-the-moment invitation to see a 9:45 movie across town.

Do not go back to your friend’s house afterwards to see photos from his recent trip to New Zealand then fall asleep on his couch with your cell phone ringer still off.

Do not keep ignoring those “Renter’s Insurance” advertisements that are always clogging up your mailbox.

When you turn left onto your street tomorrow morning, do not go all catatonic, lose control of your car, and crash into a tree when you see what has become of your apartment building.

You know what? Don’t ever light this. Why don’t you just return to the store where you purchased it, and exchange it for a nice plant.