He’d read about the Yanomami tribe. How, when the soil sours and the hunting wanes, they move on. The men hack away at a new patch of the Amazon and the women join them to drop embers onto the pale stumps that remain. Together they swaddle the fresh ground in ash.
Their abandoned village is sacrificed to the maw of the jungle. Years later, a scavenger– angry with hunger and wandering into the clearing– could shout at the empty yard where hundreds had once argued over contracts and duty, and wait an eternity for a response.
That’s how he feels standing in his living room, as her cigarette still fumes on the table despite the embrace of an ashtray. Because Mellie just snatched her coat from its hook and walked down the steps holding on to another man.
*This post was inspired by Monday’s flash fiction prompt and by Blogging101.