F is for Fire
No one knows where the fire came from, which is strange, since they seem to know most everything else, or suspect it. They know about the barn at least, and how I let the cows out that night last week. And they know I stopped-up Old Man McGregor’s well. They came to me, all of them with their accusations and their threats. But not after the fire, even though the lowing cows had hidden the sound of the flames and they couldn’t put it out because there was no water in the well.