I sit watching the flames fly skyward and disappear into the darkness. I can feel the heat softening the boot polish that masks my features. Lifting a rag, I smear the war paint from my cheeks. I’m sure that much of the blackening remains, but it is no longer needed. My night time adventure is nearly over.
I can hear the sirens wailing in the distance and wonder who will arrive first, the firemen or the police. Either way, it is time for me to get out of there.
Your roof creaks and collapses as I escape into the woods