by Nathaniel Lee
The embers shimmered, buried under snowy mounds of ash. He shuffled the pile on his lap and, lips pursed, selected another page. The light of the sudden flame cast his features into sharp relief, pooling shadows about his ears, his cheekbones, his eyes. He smiled. It would all be over soon, when the fire went out at last. The cold house echoed around him as he tossed in another page, the stack dwindling away to nothing.
Nathaniel Lee maintains a daily writing blog of 100-word stories called Mirrorshards. (Click here to make a donation to Nathaniel, half of which will support 6S.)