Melting Moments

Edna was finally warm: the communal flame of one hundred candles would do that.

The tuneless chorus of "Happy Birthday" bathed her in love, from the varied pitch of children, grandchildren and greater, singing.

What a legacy.

She hoped they wouldn't ask her to blow them out, the candles. She'd say no. She couldn't spare the puff.

Conversations buzzed, indistinct. Eyes closed, she thought of who was left her age: only Ted, her childhood bear. His ears, like hers, worn-out; threadbare. And inanimate.

"She's sleeping." Sasha. Granddaughter. "I think..."

Neither asleep nor dead, Edna thought. But every time she closed her eyes, it was risky. She wasn't scared. Smiling, she revelled in the living moment, knowing, like candles on a cake, they were melting away.

125 words

This is an entry for D.K. Shepard's unofficial challenge which you can read about here: