She’s always been infatuated with fire, which was made evident by the chrome lighter she carried in her pocket. 
She was cold as though she had inherited the winter storm from the world outside 
and when the storm rages inside of her,
she stares intensely into the soul of the flame with envy.
It seems silly to be jealous of an object so disposable, so material,
but how could you not be filled with envy?
How can you?look at an object with the ability to set fire 
and warmth to everything and yet still feel superior?