Some fires burn over time. You go on with your days, your face heated by the embers, your body growing accustomed to the dampened shirt, the drop of sweat rolling off your back. You stay at the mouth of the beast, watching, waiting for the chance to run. 

You fill suitcases with as many pictures as you can fit. You wear three shirts, double up on underwear, the rest stays even if at one time it mattered. You can do without those things as long as you have those hands holding on to you. So long as you can walk away with a beating heart echoing the beats of those you love, everything can burn.