Ashes. (A two AM narrative)

     Ash drifted on the wind, like emberless fireflies against a pale backdrop. Gideon witnessed the scene with a solemn air if helplessness. In his right hand, he held all that remained of what was once his life. The best and the worst parts, all tucked into one small scrap of paper.
     The fire had burnt itself out  hours ago, but still the air around the foundation was hot, and burned the throat as it was breathed in. Gideon stepped through what used to be the front door, now just a blackened portal to a very real nightmare. As his broken down, worn out boot struck the floor, a flurry of ash rose and covered his pants legs. His left hand ventured out, brushing his fingertips over a now blackened picture frame. Gideon jerked back, the glass had yet to cool. Just another reminder that everything he had this morning, was now gone. Everything except the scrap of paper he now clutched in his right hand.
    Gideon moved into the next room, the ruins of what used to be his kitchen. The immense heat has caused the refrigerator to warp, and pop open. What little food he had saved, was now just indiscernible lumps of charcoal. His fingers tightened on the scrap of salvation he held in his right hand.
    Room by room, the scene was the same. Living so far away from people, nobody even knew that any of this had happened. Not a soul called for help, not a single tear was being shed for Gideon, or his loss.
    Gideon closed his eyes, remembering in detail the events of the night, as the sun began to peek through the trees on the horizon. Smoke had filled his nostrils, and immediately he jerked himself awake. The long day previous, meant he had fallen asleep in his clothes, boots included. He bolted for the door, crashing through it without thinking. The fire was already coming down the hallway toward his bedroom, and it was coming fast. Gideon dashed back into the room, snatching frantically at the things on his night stand. Keys, wallet, clock...suddenly he stopped, his eyes resting on a small photograph sticking out from under a lamp. Calmness swept over him, he dropped the meaningless things that he had been holding on to. Delicately, he reached out and took the photograph. The picture had been creased in places, and in a couple of places had gotten wet, but the mere sight of it brought a tranquillity to his mind.
    The room was getting hotter. Gideon snapped back to reality and moved to the window. With one hand he pushed the window up, and lept to the safety of the ground below. For the next several hours, Gideon sat and watched his home -his world- burn to the ground. Still, he clutched the photograph, and in casual silence, waited for the flames to die down. He had saved the one thing that he couldn't bear to lose. To him, that picture was worth more than anything else in the world, and as long as he held it, he knew he could rebuild.
    In his life, Gideon had learned a few things. Some things are worth fighting for. Some things are worth waiting for indefinitely. Some of the most painful things are the ones that matter most. Sometimes, just sometimes, you have to watch it all burn down before you can build it up again. In the end though, as he clutched that photograph in his hand, he knew he would be okay as long as he never let go.