My grandfather folded prayers into matchbooks. Lit cigarettes with them. Swore they tasted sweeter.

When he died, we found them tucked in jars: Surahs beside postage stamps, verses pressed into lottery tickets.

He left no will.
Only this:
“Keep burning what they want you to forget.”

L.F. Khouri is a writer who has studied in the U.S. and abroad. His work explores war, memory, and the inheritance of silence. His flash and short fiction have appeared or are forthcoming in literary journals such as SmokeLong Quarterly, miniMAG, and Literally Stories.