Fire is one of nature's purist art forms. Organic, undeniable, and powerful. Swift, and deadlier than any virus. Art is destruction of existing structures, and fire is art in its purest form.
She stopped smoking years ago. At least, for recreation. For procreation, well...that was different.
Procreation indeed. What were her fires if not her children? And what are children if not our creation, our own personal works of art. We create them and send them out into the world to interact with others, because they are incomplete otherwise.
She lights the tip and inhales deeply. She feels the rush of nicotine as she exhales. Then she drops the lit cigarette into the trail of flammable liquid leading to the two-story mansion before her.
She watches her creation become born into the night. And it is beautiful.