sunni-sideup

There was a flame, a fire that would not stop burning. It consumed us, baptized us in holy heat, and left us new and crying and empty on the ground. You say this was for the best, that by striking our bodies against one another we started a healing spark. But if that's true, why are we still burning? In our dreams, we try to find a sunset, orange and wild and perfect, but we can't see for the smoke in our eyes and on our tongues. We haven't breathed in days. You watch the flames dance up and lick our heels. You make no move toward us. You hear our screams, but they are lost in the noise of your cause. We never started the blaze. We were on

Henrik van der Hune, his arms folded tight across his chest, tapped his fingers against the well-worn elbows of his lab coat. He had tied his procedure mask around his ears so it hung just below his chin, as if he expected to need it at a moment's notice. Never mind that he was not even in his lab but in Joanna's dim office. He felt awkward without bright fluorescent bulbs overhead and Mayan dust on his fingertips. He cleared his throat. The noise sounded uncommonly loud in the small office. "Joanna," he began. "It's getting rather late. Perhaps I should…" "It's only ten minutes past," Joanna said through gritted teeth. Henrik paused

Callie nestled her head against Frank's shoulder, letting his warmth shield her from the stinging air. It wasn't a particularly chilly day, but the wind felt sharper fifty feet above the ground. Their passenger car swayed slightly on top of the Ferris wheel, and Callie instinctively clutched Frank's arm tighter. She had never been very afraid of heights, but it was as good an excuse as any just to feel him tug her closer. "Stay alert, Callie," Frank whispered under his breath, his tone serious. "We've got to watch for anything suspicious. Particularly if it involves a green van…" "How do you know all that already?" Callie asked. Frank