"Chimney"

Placing one foot after the other, heel to toe, my bare feet tickled by the rough crab grass, I started the long walk up the drive way. Inching closer to the house, my stomach started to twist like a washcloth being rung out, and I started to pull on the edge of my broken fingernail. The wind curled the scent of burning wood under my nose and I can almost taste the gooey marshmallow and melted dark chocolate. My muscles relax, shoulders drop from hugging my ears as I hear her laugh echo from the porch. Her warm, light giggle fills the air like a bubble gun with bubbles of joy popping all around. Even the gardener, who was undertaking the arduous task of getting the weeds to let go of their clasp in the ground, looked up, wiping the back of his muddy work glove across his brow, leaving a little streak of dirt across his forehead.