It was well before I kissed her, I knew that much. The kiss was simply the product of a reaction I hadn’t realized was occurring. Desire had been a smokeless, odorless chemical in the air, like methane as it displaced oxygen and logic from my brain until attraction asphyxiated my restraint. I kissed her like she was oxygen, and I should’ve known better because when methane is drowned in oxygen, it combusts. And I would have, too, if it hadn’t been for that car.
