Chapter 15 - The Single Candle
Later that afternoon, after the rush had subsided and the bakery doors were temporarily closed for the interlude, Aubree stepped outside onto the quiet sidewalk.
Across the street, in the center of a newly planted public park, stood a sleek, minimalist bronze bench facing east toward the rising sun. Embedded into the armrest of the bench was a small, elegant brass plaque bearing an inscription in precise, familiar blueprint lettering:
TO THOSE WHO CHOOSE TO LIGHT A CANDLE IN THE DARK.
JULIAN VANCE & WALTER STERLING.
Aubree sat down on the bronze bench, pulling her dark wool coat tightly around her shoulders. The autumn breeze carried the crisp scent of falling leaves and wet earth, but she didn't feel cold.
She reached into her coat pocket and pulled out a small, unlit matchbox. She opened it, staring down at the single wooden match resting inside.
Her father was gone. Walter was gone. The empire of ashes had been burned to the ground, and from its charred remains, she had built a sanctuary where no one would ever have to count their coins in shame again.
May you like
Aubree closed the matchbox, slipped it back into her pocket, and looked up at the endless expanse of the blue sky above the city.
The storm had passed. The world was hers to shape.
