The Toast
The clinking of glasses as she clears tables will be what she remembers most clearly. Bell-like, clear, almost happy. She will take home her dirty apron, shower the scent of service off of her skin, finish the crossword half-done on her morning commute, and pour a glass of port. Winter frost nearly thawed, she will hear crickets, smile, and quickly forget their chirping. She will sleep for three hours and twenty-seven minutes before the choking smoke wakens her and the firemen help her out. She will stand, mute, in charred nightdress, and recall the last toast to her old life.
Photo credit: Paul Bence
Beautifully done.
Exquisite. Loved it. Talk about the arc of a lifetime in so few words!
I love this, too.
loved this.