Faith and Ashes

I put the cigarette lighter back in my pocket and watched the edges of the paper curl as the notecards burned. I rarely smoke, but I'd gotten the cyan ashtray specifically for this reason, as if burning my petitions upon completion was somehow comparable to a sacrifice being burned on an altar in thanks. It wasn't necessary, but the ritual of the paper funeral pyre was oddly comforting, and it gave each request an air of finality or closure. It would come eventually, but there were too many areas of my life where I was still waiting for that.

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