I always knew the fireplace would be a problem. Jake obsessed with fire and he hated to clean. Or at least said he always ‘forgot’ to clean. I was left with making sure the chimney was clean and nothing easily ignitable was within a few feet of the fire.
The night I came home with the firetrucks filling my front yard, I already had a good idea of what had happened and I wasn’t surprised. Jake’s past had finally caught up with him, but at least the police would never know about the accelerant I had left in the chimney.
This is a Friday Fictioneers post and more can be found here.
Standing Room Only 
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