Lee started the fire in the middle of the living room. He didn’t even move the furniture out of the way; he merely stacked the branches over the couch and end table and went from there. The couch cushions were melting and stunk. Kerri waved her hand in front of her face, trying to dissipate the smoke. Lee was ranting, talking too fast and in a bunch of random syllables about the multiverse theory. Clones. Then about ice giants. Each time something from her books came up, Kerri felt a pang of guilt. Each time smoke tickled her nostrils, she wanted to puke.
“Lee,” she said. “Lee.”
“Hmm?”
“Why did you stop taking your medication?”
Lee shook his head. He went back to ranting. He put more wood on the fire. He has to sleep sometime, Kerri told herself, only to remember the time he’d gone thr
