Untitled by Pithia She remembered the flame vividly. She always did. It was part of her power, her talent. But this time, she remembered what the fire consumed, the terror that it conjured. "So," Faye drawled. "She's a neighbour." Deborah hooked her thumbs in her belt loops. "Not a very good one. A stupid, scared little girl. Spineless. Hopeless. And a shitty poet." A blaze of memory scorched Faye's skin from the inside out; the plumes of its smoke clouded her eyes. "She has potential. It just needs editing." A conspiratorial smirk passed between Faye and Suzan. "Hmmm. Third line? If it were her instead of him, it would be perfect," Suzan purred. "Spineless maybe, Deborah," Faye nodded, grinning wickedly. "But not hopeless."