The smoke escaped from the basement window. He heard the siren twisting through the street. The pinkish sky warmed his face. People the size of ants ran, throwing buckets of water. Flames peeked snake heads through the window. He lost his balance, but then he steadied his shoulders, placing one foot in front of the other on the eight-inch ledge. Up here, the wind tugged his clothes, his sleeves amplified the wind’s hoarse like a microphone. He felt free. Smoke erased the street below. Ironic that, only by removing himself and watching from a distance, could he love the world. Giving affection away, he emptied himself. This made room for a higher love which the universe was, all the time, trying to pour into his body. He was so light he could walk on smoke.

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José Enrique Medina earned his BA in English from Cornell University. He writes poems, short stories and novels. His work has appeared in Burnside Review, Reed Magazine, American Writers Review, and other publications. He is currently developing his first short story collection. When he is not writing, he enjoys playing with his baby chicks, bunnies and piglets on his farm in Whittier, California. He is a VONA (Voice of Our Nation) POC fellow.

Photo: Alex Holyoake