Combustion

"Go ten thousand miles an hour or not at all."

I was fourteen years old when I feel in love with a lightning bolt. Fifteen when we became best friends, and sixteen when I kissed her. I am eighteen years old when I miss her terribly.

Her name was Emory, but three syllables were much too long for her liking. She told everyone to call her Em. I called her Emma; she dealt with it.