The firelight glinted off the gold lettering of old cards before they blackened and curled. I didn’t flinch when the door opened behind me.
Ryan’s voice cut through the crackling fire, low and trembling.
“Alli. What the fuck are you doing?!”
I turned my head slightly, just enough to glance at them over my shoulder.
They were both there.
Ryan, his jaw tight, his fists clenching. Warren, his eyes wide with panic.
“Nothing,” I said simply. “They were getting moldy anyway. Might as well burn them.”
Warren surged forward, snatching for the photos still in my hand.
I didn’t even hesitate. I shook my hand just enough to send the stack fluttering into the fire.
The flames roared higher, leaving no chance to save anything.
“No—!”
Warren’s fingers darted for the burning edge of a photo, but the heat licked at his skin and he jerked back with a hiss, his palm already reddening.
He stared at me, his voice cracking. “Even if they were moldy, you didn’t have to burn them! These are our memories!”
I looked at him then — really looked at him — and almost laughed.