Sarah Swanson

Free

Sitting around a fire no longer feels absurd. Spending most of your life in a major city, it’s seeing a fire like this that would have been strange before. A fun ‘campfire’ then, maybe. Just a fire now. A sharp glint hits my eye every so often from across the flames. I shift to my left and my gaze lands on a diminutive girl, no more than twelve or thirteen, wearing a large, heart-shaped locket, much too big for her. She’s crying openly without any shame. I hadn’t noticed her before earlier today. I look away.