It’s another moonless night, the smell of burnt lovers fills the air, and she’s nowhere to be found. It’s an empty four walled room, except for shattered glass and frames on the left. Ashes scattered all over the floor. A rectangular White wooden counter on the right and the window in the front is widely opened.
24 Hours Earlier…
She’s sitting on top of the counter wearing the ring he just gave her. He’s standing right in front of her, burying his kisses into her neck, and pulling her closer towards him. She bites her bottom lip, and then pulls his head between her hands. She whispers something into his ear, and he leaves to wait outside by the fire escape.
A cold breeze brushing against his hair while he’s thinking to himself that this is probably the happiest he’s ever been in his entire life. This place will hold the memory of his proposal and the echoes of her voice screaming “yes!” He even started planning how they would celebrate their first wedding anniversary. Deep in his thoughts, he hears her voice calling to him. He rushes back into the room, and there she is.
Standing in the middle of the room, wearing a long tail Black dress. Her hands are reaching for him, “dance with me,” she says. There’s no music to be heard for miles, but she wants to dance, and he’s going to dance. He steps into the room and it feels like the first time. He notices broken frames pinned with rusty nails to his left with their memories trapped into them. He wonders if those frames have been there all along. He notices the tail of her dress on fire. He tries to put it out, but she takes his hands and starts swaying.
Looking into her eyes, he could see the burning flames of passion. Her smile is there too, just like always.
Suddenly, her dress starts to catch fire. He tries to pull himself away from her. He’s thinking we need help, she needs help. But he can’t move. She’s holding onto him tight. Still smiling, he knows, she’s not letting him go. One thought starts to occupy his head; “she’s burning cold.” He’s suffocating and he can’t stop thinking, “she’s burning cold.”
He’s down on his knees, and she’s still not letting him go. He’s burning alive, and she didn’t let him go.
Her cold flames are out and he’s just another burnt lover. The forever mistaken flames in her eyes are cold, very cold. His ring falls off of her finger to finds its way among the many other rings. She faces the window, closes her eyes, and starts to dance to the beat of her own heart.