Crash and burn: (v) to fail utterly

She insists.

Or maybe it’s him.

It’s difficult to tell in the midst of a mayday call, as affections, dreams and hopes careen toward the Earth with no seeming way to avoid the crash and the burn.

She thinks there is something she needs to salvage.

She believes taking that tiny piece of nothing and waving it in the air like a flag makes her an independent nation. But she isn’t an independent nation.

Or is it him?

He or she signed on to be part of a common effort.

But because the altimeters are sending off confusing readings, the engines are sputtering and the voyage begun so many years ago is now in peril.

She decides in those final moments to protect her pride and declare her innocence in the whole affair.

They crash.

Was it he or was it she? But worst of all, it’s them.

And there is that moment right after the crash before the fuel tanks are ruptured and it bursts into flames that they could escape.

But instead, they pridefully look at one another, standing their ground, and die in the flames of what was once a great affection–and now is just a foolish fire, burning off the refuse.

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