Lyndas Fire

Lynda stared into the popping orange and yellow fire. Twigs snapped and cracked, falling into the hearth. Surrounding brick fireplace tile glowed in a new brilliance. She felt more serene than she had felt since John’s death. She had never expected to outlive her husband. Being ten years older, she assumed they would go together. But when an auto wreck comes calling, you can die at forty-eight. This fire was an unexpected pleasure. She loved the silence.