(100-word flash fictions)
Andrea sat in front of a roaring fire. It was husband-burning day. Or rather the memories of them.
From the open photo album, she pulled out a bunch of faded photos. She had never known that tearing photos to bits could be so pleasurable. “Trash!” she yelled as they flew into the flames, all past associations, consumed and reduced to ash.
By the time she finished with husband no.3, the album was bare and her spirit full.
Tears fell like first-rain on parched soil, cleansing and invigorating. Finally, unbroken again, ready to hope and trust, she danced, like a child.
This didn’t come out as eloquently as I had imagined it, but it will do for a midnight attempt since sleep is trying to flatten me 🙂 Interesting photo you found this week, Rochelle 🙂