Although the flames charred my feet, the crunchy snow made them feel better. Tonight had to be one of the coldest nights of the year, but the warmth of the blazing house comforted my naked body, much like my mother's fleece blankets.

As I gazed into the fire, I wondered if John was going to come out stomping like an Indian Chief. I always wanted to go to one of them POW POWS, but I had my very own bonfire right here, and it was glorious.

I said to myself that I had at least 20-40 minutes to attend this spectacle before the arrival of the fire trucks.

John always insisted on having a house with no neighbors. I told him no neighbors was a bad idea, and what would happen if there was an emergency, but he said, "This is what phones are for."

But, I couldn’t think fast enough to grab my phone, my heart was pounding, and I could barely breathe. All I could think about was getting through the thick of the smoke and to the door, which couldn’t be felt nor seen.

I felt like a blind mouse running through a labyrinth. A labyrinth I thought I knew until I was fighting for one more day.

The heat of the flames felt like a fire-breathing dragon, aiming directly at my back. And it was probably the first time in a long time I realized that my phone wasn't really that important to me.

I could have run to the guest room and picked up my phone, saved John, but why? We haven't slept together in months. I just thought it was what he wanted, to be left alone. So, I left him be.