ive not written properly in A While but this little section made me :)

(also sorry for just not answering this i fell into The Pit hahaha)

He eats, washes the dishes, then sits in the candlelight, looking into the fire. When he was a child, he used to think he could see faces, people in the flames, thought they were telling him secret stories. They told him about far distant lands, battles and crusades and adventures, about love and loss. They told him about lives he might have lived, if only things had been different.
He stares now, stares until his eyes burn, until a tear trickles down his cheek mindlessly. The fire stays just a fire.