The rate at which you acquired and I burned them: nearly perfect. I loved this, the way our tiny flames merged and conspired while we stood watch. Restless, prodding.
We knew it at the time. We would go extinct the same way dinosaurs did, becoming birds. Get smaller, yes, and more afraid.
I would ferry kettlefuls of water up the hill from the house to quiet it for good, return in the morning to toss whatever slurry remained to the woods.
Alone with the gentle insults of the mockingbird.
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