Write about: burning.
Mulched some strawberries this morning. Slept away most of the afternoon next to Max. Worked on creating a website for Kat's soon to be unleashed counselling business this evening.
And now it is late and I can hear my bed calling my name.
As the car pulled into the long, winding driveway the man behind the wheel grimaced. There was an unpleasant odour in the air and at first he feared it was coming from beneath the hood. The vehicle had seen better days, many years ago, and he knew it was only a matter of time before the poor beast finally gave up the ghost.
But no smoke emerged from the engine and the gauges on the dashboard all showed safe readings. Not that, then. So what and where was the source of that awful smell?
It only grew stronger as he approached the house and he struggled to maintain his stately pace. He hated to appear to be in a hurry to get anywhere, even when he was late for an important meeting. Especially then.
The man had a handful of foibles that regularly annoyed friends and family; that one was near or at the top of many of their lists.
He brought the car around the final bend in the driveway, bringing the house into view at last. The expression on his face changed only slightly when he saw the bonfire in the front yard. When a box filled with his favorite books exited the second floor and joined the pyre he sighed, a long and slow thing, and brought the car to a stop.
Then, without a word, he put the car into reverse and gently stepped on the gas once more.