“The Life and Times of Love” the TV spoke into the near silence of the darkened room. 

A progression of organ played through the speakers, images of handsome looking men and beautifully dressed women fading in and out of the screen, one glamour shot before the other. Just like the popcorn, I ate it all up. Late night soap operas were my new sensation, and if I wasn’t allowed to leave the house, I sure as hell was going to what whatever I pleased. No one was going to enter my house to stop me.

“Oh Charles!” said the damsel of the screen. “The man in the black coat is approaching.”
“Bethany. It’s a dead end. There’s no way out darling!”
“Oh Charles! Kiss me one last time before we perish.”

I leaned closer to the screen, bits of buttery popcorn falling from my mouth. The intensity of the mans silhouette against the brick wall was palpable, even on this side of the screen. Approaching slowly, the black form pulled a knife from its shadowy torso.
“Oh Charles!” the woman cried, as they kissed passionately despite the approach.

I gasped in slowly, and in the process, caught the scent of something burning.

I blinked, looking down and noticing the hand full of popcorn. It was now just a fist full of black, shriveled puffs.

“Crap.”

I stood up immediately, and tossed away the popcorn just before the bowl started melting. In the flash of a moment, my hands ignited.

“What in the…!”

I stuck out my hands away from me, the light of the flames glowing brighter by the moment. I frantically looked around, trying to pinpoint the source of the danger.

“F*ck!” I spat aloud, not noticing a single sign of intruders, not hearing any commotion, and not feeling any sense of danger outside of the plight of Charles and Bethany. It couldn’t be the soap opera, could it? But this has never happened the other nights.

I tried to steady my breath, keeping my blazing hands away from my body, and anything they could touch. The temperature in the room was rising quickly, and no doubt, the “new neighbors” would be at their windows wondering why his living room window was shining light into theirs. If only I could close the window without setting the house on fire or melting the glass.

Frantic, I ran from the living room, folding my hands together and keeping them away from the walls and ceiling. I had to find my water bucket; if only I hadn’t been an idiot and refilled it proper after cleaning everything today.

“Except the dishes” I muttered. 

I blinked, the sight of the wallpaper curling catching the corner of my eye, and then hit me. “The dishwater!”

Stepping into the kitchen, I stood before the sink. The long left dishes were strewn in their abandonment, wading in murky, foul smelling wastewater. Fragments of food waste still floated in its depths.

“Crap!”

The flames grew hotter, and I swallowed. Plunging them into the sink, ranging bubbles, blasting steam, and a burst of water shot everywhere around me. Soaking in waste, I could feel the heat dying.

The door burst open.

“B.O.E.! Hands where I can see them!”

The agents pointed their disruptor cannons at me. I panicked.

“I can’t!”

“Hands up, now!”

The water broiled. I knew the moment I raised my hands, it would start up again. As the agent cocked his weapon, I closed my eyes and gritted my teeth. This was going to hurt.

“Stand down!” a voice came from outside the door. The agents lowered their weapons, and the woman stepped into the kitchen, wearing the uniform of an investigator with the Bureau of Enhanced Persons. I recognized her face, and immediately sighed in relief.

“New rule.” she said. “No soap operas.”