These shots don't ricochet

Iskra

BREATHE IT IN, IT'S JUST SNOW, WE'RE JUST FALLING
WE WON'T ALWAYS FREE FALL BACK TO NOTHING

The bar was alive with steady conversation and firelight that swayed below the chimney. It was the type of place that let you be lonely without being alone. In a corner Iskra leaned against the wall, his coat shrugged off and hanging on the chair as the warmth of the house filled every space, even his bones where the day's chill had settled early. A mess of wood chips speckled the fabric, one was even tangled in his hair at the back of his head where he couldn't see, each testament to the man's profession and lack of a wardrobe that wasn't just his day's attire. Unlike some of the other patrons, Iskra hadn't come here for a good night or a date. He came here to ensure the night did not become bad. He came here to forget. He came here to become numb; the trees he carved all day, each day, put aches in his body that screamed when the sun went down and it was too much noise to handle when his heart had been screaming too from the moment he woke up.

Tonight was especially noisy. He stared at the drink in his hand but did not see it, his thoughts taking him miles away. Maybe it's because the memories were happier than usual, or perhaps the drink wasn't as strong as he preferred, but nostalgia came and Iskra let it settle into him. He was just a child again, running down the Torchline shores with the other kids, mischief and laughter in their wake as they spent the summer full of wonder and hope. There was a girl his age he'd explore with, her auburn hair gleaming in the sunlight, the smell of honey wrapping around each moment while her unyielding kindness and bravery inspired him. Then there was his best friend, a boy who's smile could light up the world and who always stood at his side as they adventured and chaos unfurled around them.

A smile tugged at the corner of Iskra's lips. He'd once believed he was gay, such was his love for his friend, only to later find his attraction was certainly aimed at womanly persuasions. So starved for affection, Iskra had thought those feelings of joy must be what everyone was always talking so passionately about. He'd learned then that there were many different kinds of love, and that those born of good friendships were no less substantial. Love bonds us with others, and in family, friends, and mates we find different ways to be strong and to conquer the trials of existing so that we can live.

Iskra tilted the drink up to his lips, wondering where all those friends that held bits of his heart had gone now after all this time, and if they were part of why he always felt so hollow. He hoped they were grown and well and that their lives were full even if his wasn't.

At his feet, a gray bundle of fur stirred in his sleep; just another piece of Iskra's heart.

I'M JUST STARTING TO LEARN
I'VE ALWAYS BEEN CHASING GHOSTS