Man On Fire

He sat there, his head hung low. On my second look back at him his skin started to glow in waves of red.
I thought it was just light reflections.  On my third look, those red waves were actually lifting off his arms and his face.  Now the glow was all over him like there was a red tint placed over him.  After fighting what I new to be true, he was spiritually on fire.  But not of the kind you would hear about.  This was a hell fire.  My stare watched that lifted glow engulf into flames.  I started to struggle to breathe and I could feel the heat on the side of my neck and face. Not burning me but I could feel the immense heat pressing on me like a towel that was soaked in hot water.  It was only him on fire as he read and spoke, the chair didn't burn, the room didn't glow nor did the fire spread, only the heat against me.
I had to leave and I did, abruptly.  I drove so fast trying to speed air back into my lungs and cool the side of my face off. I felt his guilt and his cruel acts.  But more so I felt the burn of his pride, which is stopping him from being remorseful.  But I know his memories live with him daily in the forefront of his mind pouring over him like a waterfall.  That's why he hangs his head low from the weight of it all.

Man on fire.