I swallowed a pilot light. There is fire in me yet. I do not give light, but I hold it deep within my skin. The coal touched my lips, and the fire was set inside. My lips turned black for a moment, darkened by the charcoal and the heat of the flame. My room was painted in red. A tiny piece of coal came out from my words, lighting a fire along the walls. And now the fire burns around the edged of this space, and my blood has turned three shades brighter.