Chapter 9 - The Ashes
At 8:44 p.m., the front door clicked open and shut one final time.
I walked out of my study and stood in the center of the living room.
The house was empty.
The trail of clothes had been cleared away. The navy silk tie, the green blouse, the leather belt, and the high heels were gone. All that remained on the glass coffee table were the two round-trip tickets to Honolulu, sitting beside the empty velvet box.
I walked over to the coffee table, picked up the tickets, and held them in my hand.
I walked out through the french doors onto the back patio, where the small copper fire pit sat cold under the light mist.
I reached into my pocket, pulled out my silver lighter, struck the wheel, and held the flame against the corner of the first-class boarding passes.
The paper caught fire quickly, bright orange flames licking across the teal ink, burning away the names Mark Vance and Sarah Vance, turning the promises of a rescued future into black, curling ash that drifted away into the dark night air.
May you like
I dropped the burning remnant into the fire pit and watched until the last spark went out.
The marriage was dead. The ashes were cold.
