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A man builds a large fire unfit for the night he's in
A man builds a large fire unfit for the night he’s in.
He sits too close to it.
The smoke stings his eyes, he blinks. The fire feels colder.
He doesn’t move.
He decides if he holds still the fire will burn better.
If he thinks the fire right, the smoke won’t find him.
If he thinks harder, the cold will understand.
He idles, choking in the silence, chocking on the smoke. Ash occupying the space where wood once stood.
The cold holding him without acknowledgment.
Some time later he stands.
He didn’t decide to stand.
He didn’t solve anything.
Sitting felt like agreeing.
He doesn’t rebuild the fire. He doesn’t walk away.
He stands there, smoke curling off his clothes, smelling like the night he tried to Out Think.