The first time was in the back seat of her high school boyfriend’s Chevy. She didn’t want to go all the way, but he seemed so desperate.

Oh, she’d flickered before. As a little kid, she let her older sister beat her at horse. But her first full conflagration was in the Chevy.

By the time she was an adult, her daily life was a bonfire. Up in flames to please her boss, a woman who never seemed to sweat, let alone burn. Crackling when taking her daughter to dance class after a long day. An inferno when making the family meals.

One night, after her husband did the cleaning up, she sipped wine alone at the kitchen table. She might have imagined it, but she thought her husband had given her that look when saying he was turning in early. She wasn’t sure she had the energy but would do her best.

She climbed the stairs, trying to muster her strength, imagining tiny fireballs in her hair.

When she got to their bed, she found only ashes.