She was shivering in the middle of the room. Staring at the red candlelight structures clustered together, connected to a timer that was counting the hours down. People stared at her from outside the glass wall separating her from them. Separating her from rationality. But her eyes were fixed on the bomb, the alluring red structure that fascinated her, she wondered why she couldn’t draw her eyes away from it. “The timer is going to go off,” they yelled, “you will be blown to pieces,” they screamed, “back off before it’s too late before you regret it.” But the girl did not acknowledge any of this. She thought she could dismantle the bomb. She could navigate through that complicated wiring and make sure it didn’t explode. However, she was no bomb expert and the bomb was sure a hell complicated. Someone manages to break through the glass wall and runs over to her. She looks at the person, begging her to back off and she closes her eyes. Rationality grows dim and she brings her focus to the bomb again. “Even if the bomb explodes, I can handle the explosion!” she says to herself, “I can handle it because I know its every detail. I could not even begin to imagine how had it would be to leave without trying.” Then. there came a loud sound, an explosion ringing through her every bone and vibrating through her body. You were my bomb.