Respite

She stared into the flickering flames, mesmerised by the movements and images formed in the orangey-yellow glow. Allowed her mind free rein. Wandering. Sometimes pushing the fiery-red coals around with the fire-poker. A few pieces crumbled, fell apart into grey ashes, while beautiful, short-lived sparks flew when the hot, livid ones came into contact with the metal.

She has always loved the idea of an ancient stone fireplace. Wondered if she'd ever be the proud owner of one. In her imagination, there's a picture of him and her, sitting companionably by it in winter, fire blazing, mugs of hot chocolate with marshmallows and good books in hand.

Whenever she's alone and relaxed, as she is now, he edges, unbidden, into her thoughts. As much as she has tried to shut him out of her consciousness, there's always a hole, a leak. It has been difficult. Knowing he's not going to be there anymore, knowing he'd never be the one.

Just before despair threatens to overwhelm her, she blinks away the built-up moisture in her eyes, pushed the ashes into the heart of the fire and poured the remaining water from her mug onto it. The fire spat as it struggled to make a last attempt to revive itself. Smoke rose, signalling the battle lost. She turned her back to it and returned her attention to work.