The basement was cool and dark, a welcome contradiction to the sweltering early June heat. The cries of children at play and the honking of irritated drivers could not penetrate the concrete walls, so for the moment I sat in silence against one of the walls, several empty bottles of liquor scattered around me and a small picture frame on my lap.
Alcohol laden tears spilled down my cheeks and onto the photograph, blurring my view of the handsome man. I wiped my nose, and placed the picture of my late husband on the gasoline covered floor. The fumes stung my nose and eyes, and the world swayed around me, a vertiginous kaleidoscope of black and gray.
“Soon we will be together again,” I said aloud, sniffling. I felt my resolve faltering, but with shaking hands I removed a matchbox from my pocket. I struck the first match, but it failed to light. The second one sprang to life, eager to devour the food that I offered.
“I’m insane,” I murmured softly, gazing sorrowfully at the flickering flame. This realization did not bother me however, and I knew with absolute certainty my next move would be irrational and foolish. I threw the match high into the air, tracing its path through the air.
“Level up,” I whispered hoarsely, smiling at my little joke. The match landed in the pool of gasoline, and the inferno whirled towards me, roaring with a hellish fury. I closed my eyes and leaned against the cold wall. Yes, soon we will be together again.
22-Jun-2011 19:28:41