That's how the sky looked the first time I saw the sunset. We sat there, feet dangling off the end of some forgotten pier. We didn't talk. We didn't need to. The day had started much earlier, of course. We ran into each other on a deserted beach. We got to talking. It was easy to talk to you. We splashed in the water, getting our jeans wet, not that we minded. Shoes were forgotten on some other part of the shore, we laughed and talked and played until we ran out of words, out of energy. We fell asleep on that pier. I awoke first. I got to see the sky ablaze again, though this time the sun came up instead of going down. It was a warm summer, so even spending the whole night outside, we never got cold. You woke up to see the end of the sky on fire. We held hands as we walked back to the sand, feeling the grains between our toes. My hand felt ablaze where I could feel yours. It wasn't unpleasant, quite the opposite actually. It was nice, your hand in mine. We never did kiss. I don't think we needed to. The innocent fun was enough. We indulged ourselves in being isolated. But isolated together. It was beautiful. We were beautiful, the waves the soundtrack to our adventure. It was a great fantasy while it lasted. But like all fires, it was soon extinguished. The day came to a close, another fire in the sky, and you left. I asked your name, never getting it. I asked if I could ever see you again. You just gave me a sad smile. You told me you supposed not. That night, my face felt ablaze, but for a different reason. It was ablaze with tears. I wasn't even sure why. We didn't really know each other. We just had two days on a secluded stretch of sand. I didn't even have a name to call you by. I began to call you my fire, my world set ablaze by the short amount of time you were in it. You set my soul, my body, my life, my world, my universe ablaze with your short sweet presence. But that was gone. Your fire disappeared and so did the person I used to be. I once heard a saying that out of the destruction of fire, the new could be reborn, like a Phoenix almost. No, I'm not a Phoenix, how cliche of me would that be. No, but you did create something new in me. For that I am grateful. I always will have the memories of fire skies and secluded beaches. Memories of you. And I guess that's all I need. Who knew two days would mean so much? But those two days are so much more than they seem.