365 Ficlets - Day #288 ~ "The Hearth of Home"

The glass felt cold in his hand. He turned it slowly in front of his eyes, enjoying the way in which the candlelight seemed to make the whisky glow and sparkle amongst the ice cubes. This was his favourite time of the evening. He enjoyed the company of his kids as much as anyone, more in fact than most people would assume, and he loved the fact that as often as not they dined together as a family. Even so once the house was his once more, quiet and calm, he liked to sit and enjoy the contrast.

It was winter, and so the fire was dancing in the fireplace, and he fixed his gaze into the heart of the flames and took a sip from the glass. He held the whisky in his mouth, letting the gentle burn of the alcohol burn its own fire in his mouth and then as he swallowed he revelled in the transformation of the flavour and the feeling of the drink coating his oesophagus with spicy, honeyed warmth.

He knew that she would disapprove if she could see him just sitting, drinking alone like this, but that was really the point.