Swelter

A girl stands in the corner of the room burning.

It's a lovely day outside.

She burns like melted tar – oozing and sweltering, skin pink and glossy.

Through the gap in the curtains the sky is blue.

You think this is either a dream or induced, they said you had a fever.

Sun filters in and wavers to the floor.

There is no need for it, though, with the girls head alight.

Somewhere close by is birdsong.

The girl's hair flutters to the ground in flecks of fire.

It gleams in the trickles of light.

The girl reaches out, entranced, to cradle it gently in her palm.

The curtains flutter in the breeze.

It isn't until your hands start smoking that you realize you're on fire.

It's a lovely day outside.