The Wistful Show

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2026-08-18 13:45:51 -

The Wistful Show

The fire took the roof first. Then the beams. Then the air. I stood in the yard. My hands were shaking. Not from cold. From smoke. The barn was gone. Not ruined. Gone. Like a tooth pulled clean from the gum. Leaving a hole where the shape used to be. I looked at the ash. It was still warm. I touched it. It burned my thumb. I did not pull my hand back. I let the pain stay. I needed it. I needed...

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