She stands in a dark, empty room. Eyes closed, she takes a deep breath, feeling the uneasiness go through her body slowly, slowly from head to toe. She envisions it like small flames running through her veins, slowly taking over every existing inch. She needs fresh air; fresh, dry desert air. At once she walks out onto the balcony, closes the glass door behind her and begins to count. One, two, three, four, five. She counts to twenty-three. There are twenty three stars visible, and one beguiling quarter moon. She looks down at her right jean pocket and pulls out a cigarette and a lighter, now a routine she never thought she’d grow into.
Flick, flick, flick. She smokes and flicks the ashes, bright orange fireflies racing through the air. Inhale, exhale. She can feel her inner flames slowly retreat back up.
This was just another night, and she almost didn’t mind it.