After a long time, we spoke in the same tongue. Should I move on, I asked God and God replied, You do not seem like you want to move on. I sighed, realising God’s tactic. Our talks were indoors, in candlelit rooms. Anytime God spoke, flames fluttered. Would you mind if I moved on, I asked God and waited for the candle’s noise. God’s silence seemed a staunch no. I asked if you were at fault for leaving me and if I was at fault for hurting you. Both of you made mistakes, God said. It relieved me to know that you, too, were wrong.