DYING FIRE
At night, Ella didn’t mind sitting by the fire as it wound down to an ember that would glow the rest of the night, quietly and surely, waiting to be poked and fueled and restored to a proper blaze in the morning. Granted, the hearth gave off so little light and warmth, but it was quiet so very in the kitchen, with no one to order her around. She would take partially spent coals and draw on the stone in ash, or would rub the soot to her eyes and cheeks ands lips, and pretend to be a painted lady.
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