In the embers
Archie let his thoughts drift, soothed by glowing embers, the flames’ soft crackle. The fragrance of burning pine-cones took him back to boyhood summers, hunting here in these mountains with Father.
Now, Archie hunted alone. He longed to settle, to share all this with a son of his own. He’d tried to find the right woman, but none had endured. He had held great hopes for the last one—the failure still hurt.
He prodded a smouldering piece of leather into the hot centre of the fire, incinerating every trace. He sighed. She’d looked good in those red shoes.
Another story for Friday Fictioneers, a weekly flash fiction link-up kindly hosted by Rochelle Wisoff-Fields.