Once upon a time, there was a flame. He lived through many rains, hiding under caves and various rocks and sticks. He warmed many campers, and then he hid when they tried to put him out. One early morning, after a long rain that seemed to last for centuries, he met a droplet. She was beautiful, gorgeous even. The light shone off of her in a million different ways, every way more amazing then the last. They played for a while, maybe even days, but when he tried to reach for her, he burned out. Everything he tried, he just couldn't keep his flames going. The droplet saw his frustration, and that night, she took off. She found a way to stay alive, cooking for a local who happened to live in the middle of the woods. She lived in sadness for the longest time, in solitude, with noone to console her about her tragic love life. The only thing that kept her going was the fact that she knew what she did, and she was proud of herself. Then, one especially cold night, the local brought back a special flame on his mysterious wooden stick. There, flickering in te little cabin, was the flame. Her love, the one she left to save. The flame saw her, and all the anger he felt at her melted away. Then, the local reached to put him out, and with nowhere to go, he was taken. The droplet, overcome with sadness, rose to the top of the cooking pot, and evaporated. She went to the afterlife, as a wisp. She saw another, and went towards him. The wisp turned out to be the flame. As they were now wisps, and they were the same, he reached for her, and he finally felt the touch he had been wanting to feel for decades. They lived happily ever after.