He takes a drag. Smoke runs over his tongue. He leans back with cheap beer and his eyes follow the causeway of the stars. In a moment a memory flashes. The smoke in his lungs. The watery headiness. The bright blaze above. He sees the painted wall blackening under the relentless assault. He sees the flames lick across the ceiling in a rippling wall of scales. The cracking of glass through the inferno. The fire spoke with a great cacophony of roaring that battered his senses. He pulls the cigarette from his lips and exhales smoke into the night. He watches the tendrils curl around the stars and wonders at their indifference to his loss.
Paddy Dobson
21st September 2021