Sparks splashed the asphalt before disappearing under my car. It was beautiful. A dazzling explosion of red and orange in the dark morning.
A flash of color, of life, and then gone.
In that instant, the ashes looked alive. They moved like tiny creatures, swirling, a spark dancing in the dark.
It was the kind of thing I’d have loved to last longer so I could really capture the colors and movement, build a story off it, and tie it back to a song, to a memory, to something beautiful.
I didn’t enjoy it in that moment, though.
It was anger I felt first and strongest
Who throws a cigarette out their window these days? In fire prone country? During a drought?
The absurdity made me furious.