Pragmatic Flames
Spring 2021
Wailing sirens close in. An unmelodious symphony forms with the echoing screams of his family that die as the fire is born. Against the blank canvas of his eyelids, brightness remains but the blaze disappears. Instead, a stark white kitchen reappears. His blue eyed mother hummed and stirred a thick batter while his silver haired father cut vegetables. At the table, he entertained Aggie, threading a delicate white bow into her hair. For a moment, they were happy.
He flinches and dodges out of the grip that settles on his shoulder. Coughing, he clutches the phone to his chest.
A fireman removes his helmet and clears his throat. “Sorry to startle you son,” the man says cautiously. “I didn’t mean to frighten you. I’m here to help.”
He blankly stares at the man who shifts underneath his gaze and tries again. “I know this is shocking and might feel surreal, but you’re okay now. We just want to do a routine checkup if that’s alright with you.”
Without answering, he nods and follows. Cinder singes his arm as he scrubs at the sticky tears coating his cheeks. The pads of his fingers are numb as he presses them against his temples. He doesn’t feel pain as they impale a divet of eroded skin.