Best intentions of a pure flame
The man stopped at the shuttered window where a pencil of light crossed his path. He had meant to be someone else, someone with a longer stride, a broader stance, a following — someone acceptable to the general public, even perhaps applauded now and again. But these edges were all paper and would not hold. When he stepped into the light it shone clear through him, except for the fist sized beating of his pure flame heart where it caught and held and ignited everything.