She stood on tiptoes,
and her eyes-
always glazed with hope.
Cautiously,
she guided the tips of her fingers
till they met
the scalding metal.
No,
she did not flinch.
No,
she did not retrieve her pale hands.
Those slender fingers remained still;
as still as a petrified mouse.
The unblemished skin of hers
started to melt,
to rot,
until it stuck to the burning surface.
Permanently.