SOMETHING HAS CHANGED

I…feel something. Something small, glowing. An ember. I am afraid to inspect it more closely. Do I want to catch fire? The flame is fanned and its warmth moves up, up, up, from the pit of my stomach to a flush gracing my cheeks. They are warm with embarrassment. I am in seventh grade again, receiving a bouquet of origami flowers from my tablemate in front of the whole class. My teacher is saying, “Get together, let me take a picture!” and all I can think about is all of the conversations I’ve had with this friend where he knew something I didn’t. My fists are clenching; I am feeling the push of water against the inside of my closing palms.

The flames are growing. They burn a ravine through my chest, charring the places they pass. I am 21 again, I’m so sorry, I’m more of a sad girl than a mad girl, I could not think of a single event that has happened to me that has filled me with pure rage]. I am fire. My flames hiss as the ocean-scented water laps against my skin. I have dissolved and been reborn ablaze. I am not the only one that will burn.

Somewhere, far away, there is an incessant beeping. I don’t know how long it’s been going on, but I can ignore it no longer. The more I focus on it, the more I realize: I am burning myself out. My time is up. The lukewarm water smothers my flames. I blink, reborn, into the dim light of the spa and feel empty and whole and rageful and serene.