Cinders: A Love Story
By Keith Hood
Perhaps we should not have done it. He’s been sitting in the closet waiting for her since 1993. His cardboard-colored container resembling an oversized Chinese take-out box with the requisite thin metal handle. The texture of his ashes, the texture of his life. Course bone. Teeth. Slag. Volcanic man. Volcanic ash. He died at sixty-nine. She died at ninety-six, outliving him by twenty-nine peace-filled years. Before placing her on the floor next to him, we remarked on the finer, more sand-like quality of her ashes as if she were waiting for a gentle ocean wave. Let the arguments begin.
About the Author
KEITH HOOD is a former janitor and window cleaner. He retired from a job as field technician for a Michigan electric utility after 32 years avoiding electrocution. Keith’s prose and poetry have appeared in Blue Mesa Review, Quick Fiction, Flash Fiction Magazine, 50 Give or Take, and one sentence poems. Keith’s photography has appeared in Ontario Review, Helen: A Literary Journal, The Grief Diaries, Storm Cellar, and F-Stop.
