In the Blink of an Eye

Did they get you to trade
Your heroes for ghosts?

With the blame of the Blight squarely on his shoulders, Sam felt that it was simply a matter of time before the mob would be breaking down his door. Soon, he knew, they would be coming to drag him by the ankles to a pyre to pay for what he had done, and he would deserve it.

But...there was an unknowable and painfully tense amount of time to go between the now and the point where his comeuppance came, and he didn't know what to do other than return to normalcy. So, for the first day in a while, he had opened his shop.

It was a mess. Dusty, books piled up awkwardly from his last day in the store before his trip to the Greatwood, where he had tried to create places for himself to hide. The fire place was stone cold, old ash scattered over it and only one log left for fuel. He placed it inside and lit the fire, rubbing his hands together as he looked about the place. At least clearing up could help him clear his mind in turn.

Putting his things (bag, knives - which he was still anxious to touch, drink) on the counter, he pottered about placing books, sweeping, batting away cobwebs; slowly making the shop more presentable. Perhaps it was strange to clean in the face of his near demise, but it felt good to be doing something.

Samuel

Hot ashes for trees?
Hot air for a cool breeze?

Cold comfort for change?