The sun set hours ago, but it was still light. The clouds were low and full over the city and reflected the numerous city lights. The diffuse orange glow was a scarce comfort to Jimothy , staring out his bedroom window.

The cry city on fiiire kept echoing through his mind in the voice of what’s her name from that movie with that barber. He had more important matters to think about, but again and again his mind wailed: Smoke, smoke / Sign of the devil / Sign of the devil / City on fire / Witch, a witch / Smell it sir, an evil smell / Every night at the vesper’s spell / Smoke that came with an awful hell / City on fire!”

This was the night he had to make the decision. His answer was expected tomorrow. Should he do it? Should he not show up? But, instead of weighing the pros and cons, city on fiiire echoed again.

He stood up, went to the bathroom. A drink of water and a short walk back. His thoughts shied away from the monumental decision and once again he looked at the orange glow through his window.