Sparked

The sounds have me up on my elbows.

Since the escape, whenever I awake to the wind shoving this creaky house, I smell smoke, hear the crackling replay of two-by-fours burning inside that southern wall where I never replaced the knob-and-tube wiring.

Again, I wonder if Grandpa Joe installed those wires and hand-carved the intricate designs on the bookshelves.

My urge is to locate Sparky, asleep at my feet, and dash from my bed. Then I recall I’m at my neighbor’s.

Nothing for me to do but settle back down, grieve, and hug my dog…all I could save that night.