Everyone would gasp and point.Ī very important question assaulted me: why wasn’t that kid afraid of me? You certainly couldn’t do that with pink leather. I could spill food or blood on it, and no one was the wiser. Black was my favorite color, if I had to choose. I didn’t hate it, but being caught dead in it would be a horrible way to go. Pink was most certainly not my favorite color. She flashed a giant smile before turning at the calm call of her mother. Seeing that she was expecting some sort of reply, I blurted out the first thing that came to mind. She was so excited as she stood there, clutching the plastic string in a small fist. I didn’t want to kill her dreams, though. There was no telling what sweaty chest those had been on. Only the naive would pluck beads off Bourbon Street. She looked up at me with clear blue eyes sparkling with excitement. A little girl broke away from her parents and ran toward me, stopping much too close and snatching a string of pink beads off the street. Raucous laughter crowded in close as people strolled up Bourbon Street with their green plastic drink holders fashioned after grenades.

The sticky-sweet night embraced me like a satisfied lover.

Born in the fire