One is when your boyfriend/girlfriend steals your food. You get tiffed and you argue. The argument turns into yelling. One thing leads to another and suddenly you're single. It is when your mother judges you for your edgy phases and you may have overreacted by yelling until you cried and could no long talk. It is when you get an F on that quiz that you studied so hard for. You want to drop out, but your contract says otherwise. It is when your boss tells you that she is cutting your hours to make room for the new girls. Your money is slipping, but you've got no real responsibilities yet, anyhow. It is wet, it is slow, but it is already over.
The other is your reaction when your baby boy calls you crying from the skating rink, saying someone tried to burn him alive in grave detail. It is what freezes you momentarily as your husband drives like a bat out of hell to get to your one and only son. It is the pain inside your chest when you see he has second to third degree burns up and down his arms. It is what drives you out of the hospital room at 3 AM, when your son is asleep, when the rest of the world is supposed to be asleep. It is what fuels you to siphon the gas out of nearby cars into a bucket you found in the janitor's closet of the hospital. It is what keeps you calm as you go to the boy's house whom terrorized your boy; you have inside sources that have given you your needed information. You know he's home alone and a heavy sleeper. It is what encourages you to surround his house in gasoline. You check the windows of the house to find an open one - and, bingo- you find one and crawl in. It keeps your hands steady as you pour the remaining fuel outside the boy's bedroom door. It dulls your emotions as you light one, two, three matches and toss them outside his door, in his living room, and on his front porch steps. You walk across the street and sit in someone else's yard and watch the disaster you just created blossom. You hear faint screams of agony come from the house and sirens in the distance. There were witnesses. It is what makes you think this was all worth it, until you are no longer able to hold your injured son's hand.