I’m trying something new here that I hope to make a somewhat regular feature, 100 word stories. I like playing with restrictions, in this case one that requires a special type of crafting in order to create a coherent story with so few words. Enjoy.
Everything that he now was and everything he hoped to be were bound up in his home. The world had gone to hell and that was just fine with him. As long as he had his own place carved out in it. The world might get better, or worse, but it didn’t matter to him. He had a place, in it everything he could want that could be acquired with his own hands. Or built using his own mind. But she was still dead and always would be. He looked around at what he had made and lit the match.