The sun is setting behind a green screen of leaves right now, slowly sinking into a hazy horizon. On this warm evening, the sun's distorted orange orb looks like a glob of molten lava or a burble of flame surrounded by the "smoke" of the evening's diffusing mist. The edge of my world is going to catch fire. (This feeling is further reinforced by the aroma of smoke emanating from a neighbor's grill.)
Nights like this, alone,
I feel like I could combust
with the sun's last flare.
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