Time to Burn

“We’ve fallen into a rut.”

Terry picked at her chipped nail polish boredly, not responding.

“Terry.”

She glowered up at him and blew her bangs out of her eyes.

“I have an idea. Something we can do.”

Her eyes narrowed, and she finally spoke.

“It better be good. Don’t waste my time.”

He smirked.

“Oh, it will be.”

--

“An old barn? Seriously? This is your idea of fun?”

“Shh,” he soothed, expression amused. “We haven’t got to the fun part yet.”

And with that, he slid a sleek black lighter from his pocket with a wicked grin.

The flames caught the hay, then moved to the walls. They roared and devoured, leaving nothing unscathed.

Terry stood by his side, amber eyes reflecting the bright, flickering fire.

“Well,” she murmured, “goodbye, boring…”