Light it.

It’s not meant to be like this, it’s not what I planned at all. She thought to herself while starting at her hands.

It had been how many weeks? The silly emotions had not abated and she was still stuck fast in the claustrophobic corners of her mind. The brief scenes of total contentment swept through the deserted hallways and embedded themselves in the distant past of her memory. An arm on an arm. The touch was taunting and turned even her solid, iron stomach to something made of nothing but floating fluff. She was doing well reminiscing but as things began to uncover in the series of a conversation, she found that the situation was possibly changing. How could one think what I want them to think when they are not me?

She would take the advice. Companion first. Potential to something more following. There was always room for patience and hers was waning. The better of the plans was to gradually increase in trust and association until there was no mistaking the unrefined fuel that drove her.

It was a fire, but it needed to be quenched. It was a flood, but it needed to be bailed. It was an unruly child, but it needed to be calmed, to drink a cup of tea and think about the trouble it had caused.

She sat. Closed her eyes. Listened. He Lied About Death. The Stars.

Things would turn in directions that she may not understand, but that should never stop her from pursuit. Perhaps this unquenchable fire was meant to run amok in the forrest a little longer.