Lessons From the Kissing Booth

I wonder how many times we are going to have to do these circus acts before we are freed from this wizard's enchantments, how many times I will douse myself in kerosene and try to run across this tightrope before the flames burn through under my feet. We didn't sign up to be carnival folk, but then we did offer up our skins in the name of progress in the only language we knew at the time.

I wonder at the effort, though, not sure why I am constantly scraping off the salty charred remnants covering my bones and only waiting until the next layer grows back still shiny and pink before picking up the lighter again. It occurs to me that there must be a less costly way to pay myself out of this pattern. Misadventure is only fun in hindsight if we all make it out alive.