Phoenix

An old woman flips through a yellowed scrapbook, chilled bones warmed by a fire. A candle spits and sputters on the mantle.

Setting the scrapbook aside, she withdraws a new candle from her shawl, and shuffles to the mantle. Her hand shaking, she holds it close to the dying flame.

The flame hesitates, and then, like a starving animal, engulfs the wick. The new candle is pressed into the well of soft wax.

Wrinkles smooth away. Crooked posture straightens. Wheezing breaths fade into euphoric sighs. Smooth nails reflect the flames as a young woman throws the scrapbook into the fire.