Sometimes you have to quit everything before you’re able to find anything, Ember decided. Clear your mind of all the clutter you’ve amassed over the years. Take a deep breath. Don’t look back. What do you value in this world? She asked herself this daily in an attempt to focus on what’s important to her. “Discard anything that isn’t useful or doesn’t bring joy to your life,” was the adage she tried to adhere to. She took a moment to evaluate the things around her. In her estimation, she should throw it all out. She found that there was something about turning 30 that startles you awake from youthful oblivion. She found herself in a place she didn’t recognize. Cleaning out the junk drawer, she tossed its random contents. Unused birthday candles, rogue batteries, long-expired coupons, ignored pieces of mail, handwritten phone numbers with no name or explanation. “But what if I need that someday,” he would ask. “You can’t just throw everything away,” he would say. She waited until he was gone and tossed it all. She did the same with the contents of the night stand next to her bed. Random cords to outdated electronics like a nest of dead snakes winding around the perimeter, paperwork to now closed accounts, useless things taking up useful space. Pushing his words out of her head, she purged everything until she found a sliver of peace. She looked around at the mountains of clutter littering every flat surface, sometimes spilling into the floor. Trash cans were maddeningly overfilled. Cabinets were inexplicably left open, as if the act of pushing them shut was a burden only she could bear. Perpetual overwhelming disorder. Throughout the last ten years or so, Ember discovered that sometimes not feeling is the only way to survive. Push things aside, have another drink, try to forget. This was the routine she maintained for years. Not today. She was 15 when she met him, 19 when she married him. A child throughout. It should have been a clear warning to her. He was 6 years her senior, a grown man interested in a child. Her adolescent brain wasn’t prepared to recognize the danger. It wasn’t until she was 35 that she finally summoned the courage. Decluttering, she decided she wouldn’t keep another scrap of anything that didn’t bring her happiness. She went out to her car in the darkness and loaded it with clothes and books. It was late and the air was thick and suffocating. She felt a sudden urge to hurry. Faster than she had gone out, she went back in and flung open her laptop. Clicking and typing until she had removed every trace of her online presence. No more social media. Delete. Unsubscribe. Cancel. She closed the laptop hurriedly and ran to the laundry room. Towels and rags and socks were still in the dryer, some hanging out of the dryer. Of course they were. She took an armful and threw them on the ground around her feet. She grabbed a basket and filled it with the rest of the clothes and walked around the house scattering them throughout each room and down each hallway. She headed for the garage where no car would ever fit. So many things stacked and piled and tossed aimlessly filled the space. She looked toward the edges of the chaos. The red handle caught her eye. She found what she was looking for. The world outside seemed to freeze with anticipation. The wind, the birds, even the traffic -- perfectly still and perfectly silent. Waiting. Back inside, she grabbed her laptop and took a final look around to be sure she didn’t actually need anything else. No. This was it. She walked out the front door for the last time. Don’t look back. She backed out of the driveway and turned up the street toward the stop sign at the end of the road. That’s when she allowed herself to look. She lifted her eyes to the rear view mirror. The orange flames licked the edges of her vision as they rolled up and around the neglected two story. Before she could pull away from the stop, it was already fully engulfed. She smiled and reminded herself that sometimes you have to quit everything before you’re able to find anything. Take a deep breath. Don’t look back.