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Weekly Contest #221
The flames crackled, danced around the logs, blackened the paper’s edges. Lavinia, feeling every one of her eighty years, picked up another log, and fed it to the fire. Lifeline could have her furniture and her china, but the fire would get her photos and her memories. ‘Here you are.’ Lavinia felt her heart skip, then flip, faster than any eighty-year-old’s heart had a right to. ‘Johnathon, I didn’t hear you arrive.’ Her eyes darted to the white cockatoo on the veranda of the old Queenslander. ‘Sarge asleep at his post. Again. Never mi...
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