She knows that when she steps into a room all the air turns to vapor. Whisked like a blender beater, pulling that moisture to her like a hydration vampire. Saturated by the moment, people can do nothing else but freeze like cubes of perfectly formed crackling tray ice.

But not me. I burst with fire. My phoenix heart will rise like smoke, belay these ashes deep within my core. I burn. The threads within these clothes are no match for licking red and orange hunger.

We tango. Fire and ice, vapor and flame.

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