Gerome stared at the monster he’d created, entranced by the dancing colors. Voracious and bottomless, the bonfire would continue to exist as long as he fed it. Reaching down, he picked up a book without looking at it and chucked it into the heart of the fire. For a moment it looked like book resisted, sitting untouched in the middle of the blaze, but only for a moment.

What had started as a simple cleaning project had taken on a life of its own. Old tax returns and bank statements had piled up. Now they were ash. After he’d finished, he felt a desire to keep the fire going. Whatever the cost.

Legs stiff, he walked into the house and came back carrying a box of pictures: wedding pictures, baby pictures, graduation pictures. Funeral pictures. Indiscriminately, he dumped them all out into the pit.

It was a shame that it wasn’t raining. He’d love to pit his fire against a storm. Gerome was sure that he’d lose in the end, but he’d put up a hell of a fight and when all was said and done, there would only be ash.