He stumbled slightly, the limp in his leg still there. He dared not to look at the place he used to call home. He could feel the heat from the fire, the fire that he himself had ignited. He blinked back tears, as he limped away.
You are going to love some of your characters because they are you, or some facet of you, and you are going to hate some characters for the same reason. — Anne Lamott
