Prompt: March 29: - Baccano!, Nice: explosions - "the boom always sent a ripple of warmth through her body"
The crisp snap-catch of the match makes her breath stutter, heat coiling in her chest. She’s already running, whirling and putting strength behind the tense-and-stretch of her arm, the little round object spinning through the air before it hits the ground.
The explosion itself rattles the air, shock-waves through her body as she is sent flying, not far enough not close enough. She rolls to her hands and knees, laughing with ringing in her ears, and smells fire and smoke and the scream of the flames as it catches along the oiled tarps above the stalls. She’s warm all over, a heated ball of excitement in the pit of her stomach—she hums out a wistful sigh as the heat builds to dangerous levels. She did promise she’d be back for dinner.
Then she’s up and moving, the ground warmed beneath her feet, her pulse jumping and she can taste it, like sparks and blood in the back of her throat.