No description is needed to tell this story. The story tells itself.

A man once claimed he could control fire. He stood in the middle of the busiest street of New York. People have ignored his screams, thinking it was all for attention. It wasn’t like that haven’t seen anything like this before. There is always some strange person yelling some inane nonsense claiming that they are a “vessel for God” or, like the man, claiming that he has some “supernatural abilities.”

The man’s eyes are desperate. He is seeking anyone who would listen. Reaching his hands out to those closest to him, but they run away from his touch. By the time dusk paints the sky, the man reverts to his home. He didn’t live with a roof over his head exactly. Instead, he roams the streets that he calls ‘home’ and continues to look for an ear that will listen. The man walks for hours on end, his feet aching with each step. He looks down empty alleyways, lifting dumpster lids, for any sign of life, but there is nothing.

The man sighs and goes back to his usual resting place where he goes to get off of his feet, a canopy that covers the sidewalk of his favorite bakery. He sits and bundles his knees to his chest. He was listening to the sounds of the night echoing through the empty streets. The man raises his hands and notices that he is shaking. With a snap of his fingers, a tiny flame ignites between the tips of his middle finger and thumb. He holds it close to his body, blowing on it slightly to make it bigger.

“If only people would believe me, then they would understand the true power that exists in humanity.”