Burn, Baby, Burn.

Heat tingled across her face as she watched the last evidence burn. To look at her, you would think that she was hiding some crime, standing over the flaming metal drum with a red glow upon her drawn features. The dressing gown sparked and crackled, settling lower.

She closed her eyes, remembering the soft fabric brushing her skin so long ago. The feel of his arms around her back. The irresistable pull as he drew her closer. the warmth of his rough hands on her skin. Now all that remained was the dressing gown. every other sign of combined existance was gone, lost on the wind or exchanged to it’s respective owner.

Why had he left her his dressing gown? Most likely the shame of his actions was carried with the unwanted memories of those hot winter nights. She held out her hands, warming the palms on the fire. Again, she felt his skin on hers, and then, with a sigh, she drew away, leaving behind her the sensations which she had longed for so much, and walked to the edge of the bridge.

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