Ashes and Apologies
A letter written in ash and regret
It was the first thing he’d written since the fire—and the only thing he hadn’t set alight.
He wrote it at 3 a.m., sitting at the kitchen table of a temporary housing unit that still smelled faintly of smoke. The curtains didn’t quite reach the floor, and the overhead light buzzed erratically. His pen scratched over lined paper with remorse.
You probably don’t remember me, but I know all of you.
He paused after that sentence, unsure whether to cross it out. Too dramatic? Too weird?
He left it.
I’m the guy from Eleventh Avenue. The idiot who lit his own life on fire—twice in one night. Honestly, I just wanted to see you show up.
James looked out the window. Even now, he half-expected the sky to glow red from sirens.
I used to watch your truck from the corner of the street. It was like a ritual: open garage, gear slung on fast, the thunder of tires over the curb. You always looked like you knew exactly what to do.
I never did. I still don’t.
He tapped the pen against the table, left a small ink blot in the margin.
I just wanted to say I’m sorry. I realize I wasted your time. I realize someone else might’ve needed you more. Please know that I wasn’t crazy. I was just mesmerized. When I saw you arrive—helmets, hoses, that focused kind of calm—I felt something. You looked like safety.
I used to work nights cleaning planes. Invisible work. But you? People watch when you show up. They cheer. I guess I just wanted to feel part of that. To feel seen…by you. I’ll never forget the way your boots sounded on my porch.
He flipped to the second page.
I’m in therapy now. The doc says I confused admiration with obsession. Maybe she’s right. I don’t want to be a firefighter anymore. But I still want to matter.
I guess that’s what you looked like to me—people who matter.
He underlined the next sentence
You saved me. Twice.
Thank you. I hope you forgive me. I am working on it.J.
No return address. Just Station 6, Ashington on the front of the envelope.
He walked it to the corner postbox in the dark, unsure whether he wanted them to read it, or burn it.
He walked back without looking over his shoulder. This time, nothing was burning behind him.
Real headlines that vaguely resemble today’s fiction:
https://www.chroniclelive.co.uk/news/north-east-news/obsessed-northumberland-man-rang-fire-31428600
https://townflex.com/man-sets-his-own-house-on-fire-twice-in-one-night-to-watch-firefighters-work/
Relate? Leave a comment. Know someone who would? Send it their way.
If you are confusing this with real news, please unplug your Wi-Fi router, go outside and touch some grass to get back to reality. Full disclaimer here.