Spoilers: VERY SLIGHT movie spoiler if you can spot it; Post-Series
Notes: I currently work for the US House of Representatives and my job is to basically sit in the back of the House floor and run errands when a Congressman or his office calls for a Page. So, in my slight boredom the other day during the whole UN appropriations thing, I started writing fanfiction. First, this drabble, and secondly, a post-series thing I haven’t finished yet. I BRING CRACK TO THE CAPITOL! =D
A match is a terribly weak thing. It is thin and brittle and useless when wet (they have that much in common). And yet, with just one flick, it strikes a spark. With just one flimsy piece of wood, man has the power to control fire.
But no one can control an alchemist. Most of all the revered Flame Alchemist.
At least, that’s what he likes to think. He likes to think he is still in control.
“Honey, bring back a carton of milk before you come home from the office.”
And he’d do just that. But she never said what kind (though he always got 2% - her favorite) or what size (though they could only ever afford half a gallon on his corporal’s salary). He felt a slight bit of content knowing that if he ever changed the routine he would be showing that he was, indeed, in charge.
His beautiful Riza was the match and he was the flame.
And he wouldn’t have it any other way.