Founds this over at https://rochellewisofffields.wordpress.com/2015/03/18/20-march-2015/ and it was such a beautiful photo, I had to write something.
Hands placed above the hearth, he inhaled until his lungs would burst.
Each stone had her scent on it. Every brick held the warmth of her touch. The floorboards where she’d walked bore the imprint of her bare feet. He loved that house, as he’d come to love her. But, his sister hadn’t felt that way.
She’d returned, tore the house down to its skeletal frame.
He’d stopped her in time. The hearth, scraped free of the witch’s ashes, burned once more. With the sizzle-crackle of Gretel came the sweet, unforgettable scent of gingerbread baking.
The memory made him smile.