It started to burn
It started to burn. Slowly at first, then faster and faster. You would never believe how long it took to start, how long it took to make that decision. Letting everything go. Finding peace. I walked in and out of that store so many times, nearly backed out. Never have I come so close to having an aneurysm as the moment I went to that counter with the duct tape and petrol canister. You were so specific about the brand. I walked for miles to find the right spot to let go; miles and miles until my feet bled, the soles of my shoes shredded, the rain wiped away any sign of what we did. I felt you there with me, every second. With every drop of rain, every howl of the wind…it didn’t change anything though, did it?
I laid it down in a tiny ditch I managed to claw into the earth. A part of me died with it and that was the only goodbye I could provide. A paltry offering. I rolled onto my back and stared at the sky; I’d never realised how stunning it was until just after the night we finished. It had been a burnt orange and vermilion sunset as if we’d set the world on fire. You used to say it was the only thing we would ever create that meant something and maybe it still will. The ash will fertilise the soil of that forest, returning to an eternal carbon cycle. We all feed the worms. I poured the petrol over it and took a breath before throwing the lighter. It started to burn. My first draft and last testament. I’m sorry.