The burning building had excited him.
He felt the burn of it begin to consume him, insatiable.
He closed his eyes and lay on the floor, the map spread beneath him, his arms wide.
He was a bat, soaring over the city, random in his flight.
He could see it in his mind’s eye.
He would cut up his pillowcase for wicks.
Many wicks from a single garment, their origin joining them forever in his mind.
He would set the fires, he would wait, he would watch.
There were all the houses, all the city, all the world.