Posted by: DIYwriting | November 8, 2021

Wildfire

“Spread love like wildfire is probably one of the cheesiest lines I’ve ever heard.  Wildfires are dangerous.  Love is not.  Why would anyone want to compare love to a wildfire?”  Hannah sat back in her chair and primly folded her hands in her lap.  I squinted my eyes at her and wondered what her life at home was like.  She probably had never said a curse word in her life and had probably never broken curfew or even considered never not turning in her homework. 

I, on the other hand, didn’t even remember the first time I heard, much less said a curse word.  I had my first drink when I was thirteen and was often scrambling on the school bus to get my homework done.  I made a point to get to school every day partially because my parents were not interested and didn’t seem to care if I went or not.  My plan was to get as much education as I could just to spite them.  

“When is the last time your parents locked you out of the house on purpose?”  I was shocked when Daniel spoke up from beside me.    

“When’s the last time you had to worry about where your next meal was going to come from?  Or when it will be?  Don’t sit there and tell me how easy your home life is and what it should look like.  For me, love hurts.  Love burns.  And I don’t know if I deserve it or not.” 


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