How long has it been? I know to the hour. Three years, two weeks, one day, twenty-one hours. The landscape has changed. The topography of my heart has not. I think of the thousands and thousands of people who have passed by this place in the past three years, the thousands of dramas unfolding. Despite all our claims to the contrary, we really do not care about each other. I see it every day. We are all simply extras in the movie, not even worthy of a credit. If we have a line, perhaps, we will be remembered. If not, we take our meager pay and strive to be the lead in someone's life.
Mostly, we fail. Remember your fifth kiss? The third time you made love? Of course not. Just the first. Just the last.
I glance at my watch. I pour the gasoline.
Act III.
I light the match.
I think of Backdraft. Firestarter. Frequency. Ladder 49.
I think of Angelika.