Note: this is 100% fiction

In one flick of the lighter, the paper in his hand catches fire. “So long,” he smirks and dumps the paper in the nearby trash can.

Four streets over, in the lobby of a 5-star hotel, heels clicking, she strides into the hotel without a care in the world until she screams suddenly. The next few seconds move as fast as a blink of an eye. She erupts in a ball of fire as everyone – the concierge, the bellhops, the people standing behind the counter – stand there, frozen, like nobody had a clue what to do.

By the time a bellhop finally put out the fire, it’s too late.

A month ago, he and she sat across from one another, having dinner at a world-class restaurant. “How are you liking the meal?” He asked.

She wiped her mouth on the napkin, “It’s fine,” she answered nonchalantly.

“Fine?”

“Yeah, fine, what do you want me to say?”

He sighed and raised his hands in surrender. “Let’s talk about your record. As your record producer and manager, I don’t think your new record is good enough. The material is just…” he thought hard to try not to be offensive, “not new. I mean, it doesn’t sound much different from your previous record.”

“Excuse me?”

“What I’m saying is…”

“What you’re saying is you don’t think I’m good enough.” She stood up and threw the napkin on the table. “You know what, fine, I’ll find someone else who appreciates my music. You’re fired.” She stormed out of the restaurant in a fit of rage.

Now, standing in an alleyway, watching the newspaper with her face on the front page burn, he smiles, “You can’t fire me, not when I’m firing you.”

Whatdoyousee