Darla rocked in her creaky oak chair on the porch, inhaling the fresh morning and sipping the incoming sunlight as it flooded the neighborhood in long shadows and light. Not a soul seemed to be awake, aside from the pair of chickadees that never failed to argue endlessly. Darla fancied that in a past life they had liked one another secretly, and it reminded her of her grown son and his wife. Oh dear, the trouble they got into.
Except this morning, there was something new in the air. Was it... her eyes widened as a burnt smell engulfed her nostrils, tainting the lovely Sunday dawn. If she squinted just enough, she could spot plumes of smoke from the old field just a few blocks down yonder. But, that couldn't be right. That was the school. And Donny. Her Donny. Hadn't he said that morning he'd be right back after fetching some papers to grade? Scrambling out of her chair, she rushed over the lilies that had just bloomed and went right over to the Jonathans. They'd know what to do, wouldn't they? Yes, Mr. Jonathan was a strong man. He'd stop the smoke. Tottering to the neighbors, she trampled over their daffodils to reach the porch. She hoped they wouldn't mind, but this was big business.
"Ms. Jonathan, dearie, call your husband! There's smoke by my Donny's school house, and the fool has gone down to get some papers!"
She heard the clattering of footsteps, but nobody opened the door. She fell into despair, imagining the smoke coil around Donny's wrists as he hacked and called her name and what if and she needed to and-
"Ms. Darla! Ms. Darla!" someone yelled, shaking her gently.
"My Donny's in trouble at the fire by the schoolhouse!" she wailed, sobbing into the stranger's jacket.
"Darla, Donny's dead."
"No, no! We have to save him! He's at the schoolhouse grabbing papers and-"
"That was 15 years ago, Darla! Stop living in the past! I'm sick of this every morning!" another voice boomed.
"Then where is the smoke from, Mr. Jonathan!? The school house I tell you! I'm begging you, please!"
"Sid, let me take her to the field. It'll bring her to her senses."
Bringing her down to the burned down school yard, Ms. Jonathan looked on sadly as Widow Darla trampled the wild flowers in pursuit of a husband that had been reduced to ashes years ago. But even she, the most shameless gossip in town, had to look away in respect as Darla looked emptily up to the sky and asked the world why she thought of Donny every time a careless neighbor burned their porridge.
