I was only half focused on the conversation circling around me.
My senses kept pulling me away from the present day. My mind drifting to the sights, sounds and smells from an era long ago.
Damp leaves, wood smoke, the crisp air of fall. I blink my eyes and the picture changes before me. I’m no longer sitting in the kitchen of my newly met neighbors. Somehow, I am outside on a cloudy fall evening. Ash and smoke all around me. I see what’s left of a ramshackle building, more of a lien to really, just the doorway and half a log wall remained.
I feel him more than see him sitting on the stump. He has an old fashioned liquor bottle raised to his lips. He pulls on the bottle like an orphaned animal weaned too young. He is in need of the comfort this bottles contains.