Dinner By Firelight I had vegetables boiling, gravy simmering, wine breathing, and was just about to carve the roast when she arrived at the door, dressed in her usual remarkable appeal. The table was set out in the living room, by the fireplace I had never used before, which I had just lit when we sat down to give us a nice romantic glow.

We toasted our glasses and began to eat, talking about this and that between bites and sips. There was a smell in the air that reminded me of something burning, so I got up to check if I had left the oven on. I hadn’t. And when I returned to the living room, there was a gray haze between her and I that I immediately realized was coming from the fireplace. In my haste to be romantic, I’d forgotten to make sure that the flue was open!

I wasn’t sure how to open it because it was old and stiff and the chimney was much too full of smoke to investigate. I ran around the house trying to find a flashlight. The smoke detector started to chirp wildly as the entire house filled thick and gray. I opened every window, replacing the smoke with a cold February chill.

Once we could breathe without coughing, we sat back down and ate the rest of the meal with our jackets on, laughing at the awkwardness of this incident and the fact that it was only our second date.  ¶ 8:27 AM