Present

For John's birthday, Sandra bought him a chimney sweep. Not a Dick Van Dyke, or whatever. A set of brushes. John was ecstatic. 

He spent his birthday wrecking the living room. Sandra stayed in the kitchen. She always hated John's birthdays.

After the fourth sweep, John brought down a pigeon. It landed on the hearth in a puff of soot, its wings spread like a skeletal angel. He thought that it was beautiful.

In the evening, John lit a fire. Smoke billowed into the room. He was disappointed, but Sandra felt a warm, comforting glow. The day was almost over.