April 2010
Commence Fire
I stood, proud and strong, with my back turned full to the house. My uneasy, bumped, bruised, and battered hands wrapped as tightly across my body as I could hold them; but it was not, and could never be tight enough. It was as if my arms were all that kept me from crumpling to the floor in a pile of rubble. My worn nails made unsatisfying slick scraping sounds as my tremulous fingers...
