Roasted

Liam, Alicia, and Sally sat around the campfire, each with a marshmallow on a stick.

“Do you see faces in the flames? I see faces,” Alicia said.

“I just see fire.” Sally gave her marshmallow a practiced turn.

“I see the burning of the soul on a bitter and parched plain while the darkness of a yawning separation strangles a man’s words before they can be born. I see generation after generation of men struggling through a short life, never able to whisper a single word of love.”

“Wow. I think I love you,” Alicia sighed.

He gave Sally a look of yearning.

“You’re marshmallow’s on fire.” She never even glanced at him.

The Hub: Rochelle Wisoff-Fields
Photo Credit:

BTW, Rochelle, feel free to raid my blog for photos.