The fire cracks and pops, slowly toasting my face.
But I like sitting up close to it, close enough for the heat of the flames to cook my running shoes. I’ve always been that way. I suppose that says a lot about me. There’s something terrifying when you know your only real limits are those set by natural law. I’d walk through the fire if my body could sustain it without injury.
I would. I’d stay there, wrapped in its blue-and-orange arms, and have a conversation with earth. Because that’s what earth’s core is made of fire. Maybe I have a little more of it inside my veins than most people. I’m an Aries, after all.
“I can’t even look at another roasted marshmallow.” Mom leans back in her folding chair and looks over at me. “You should stop too or you’ll be sick.”
She’s probably right. But
