Old Flames by the Wicked Bitch
Today, I decided to burn all the pine straw accumulating in my front yard. The air just this side of too cold to be outside, I relished the brilliant Arkansas sun. I knew the fire and the labor would soon warm me, make me hurt and make me smile.
The concrete of my barn floor was damp and cold beneath my bare feet as I pulled my yard broom from behind dusty motorcycle fenders hanging on the wall. I navigated my wheelbarrow through my menagerie of Harleys towards the front yard. The fire caught quickly, and I dumped wheelbarrow after wheelbarrow of straw on the pile, while ignoring the cold air and engulfing the sunshine.
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