“What was that, Henry?” the old man asks, his conversation gaining clarity. “No, he shall have none of it. I will burn it all before he can touch it, ablaze in a raging bonfire—imagine the heat.” He pauses, and then—stern tone replaced with curiosity—“I wonder, if the fuel is green, will the flames be green, too?” Oblivious to his son’s presence, his mutterings dissolve into drivel once again, his son sweating behind the door. He places a hand against the wall to steady himself, palm sticking to the wallpaper. He looks first to his feet, then to the large, dark window at the end of the hall. The rain outside distorts his reflection, his jet black eyes remorseless as his echo weeps.A Chevrolet honks loudly behind me.
“Shit.” I step on the gas and dart past the green light, the heaters in m
