Mom and Dad died about a month apart—him first, then her. It was like so many nights when I was growing up, when they'd sit up late reminiscing about their home town. Having exhausted his topic, he'd get up and head off to bed. Then, a short time later, almost in afterthought, she'd get up yawning and go in to join him.

shifting log
two sparks tangle
up the chimney flue