Her boyfriend left her and she froze. It was as simple as ice. Her surface remained smooth and cold as she clumped through the doors of the corner deli and ordered an iced coffee. She would have preferred it hot but was afraid of melting. The counter boy handed her a plastic cup:

"That'll be one dollar, Mister."

Her temperature rose: "I am not man; I am woman."

A chunk of ice broke off her face and crashed to the floor. The counter boy's mouth dropped open. "Sorry, Mister, I didn't mean to offend."

She pounded her fist on the counter top: "I am woman. I froze when man left me." Splinters of ice shot from her hands and ricocheted off the walls.

The manager appeared: "That's it, Mister, you gotta leave my store."

She could barely see him through the layer of ice that coated her eyes.

"Go away: Man," she said. Another slab shattered to the floor. Customers ran from the deli.  

The manager stepped forward, lowering his voice: "Listen, let me escort you out. This ice must weigh a ton."

He reached for her elbow and the warmth of his hand caused more ice to melt. 

"Do not touch me! I wear this ice in living testimony."

"Move it, Mister." The manager shoved her - hard.

White hot rage roiled up within her as ice cascaded from her body in streaming rivulets. She lifted her head and flames shot from her mouth. The manager tore his hand away, but the burning flesh of his palm remained glued to her arm, where it blistered and bubbled.

"Ow! Ow! Ow!" Cradling his damaged hand, he writhed on the floor. "Get him out of here," he yelled. "Call the fire department. Call the cops." The counter boys rushed around with clueless inefficiency as flames licked the walls.

"I am woman." She seethed and sizzled. "Woman is ice. Woman is fire."

Her torso was embroiled in flames. The smoke alarms went off as simultaneously, the windows busted out, spewing glass.

"I hereby sacrifice my soul for womankind."

A deafening explosion shook the deli before it went up in a crimson cloud of smoke.

# # #

"What happened here today is a tragedy." The police chief addressed the media and gathering crowd:

"A man went on a rampage. We're still unsure of his identity. He was known only as the ice-man. What we do know for sure is that he blew up a delicatessen in a deplorable act of cowardice. Community members may rest assured that such crimes will not be tolerated. If the man in question had not already incinerated himself, we would prosecute him with haste."

The crowd clapped politely. The charred remains of the delicatessen gaped like an open wound behind them. A young man nudged his girlfriend and they headed off together.

"It seems like this stuff has been happening ever since I broke up with Nicky," the man said.

"Forget Nicky. She's nothing compared to me."

"Right." He hugged himself, as he was suddenly very cold.

"You're supposed to touch me, not yourself." His girlfriend snapped.

Reluctantly, he wrapped an arm around her waist, and found himself colder still. It was time to leave this one. She was too demanding, and his vision was starting to stray. He brushed ice from her hair and leaned forward to offer a parting kiss. Their cheeks touched and he drew back, noting with horror that her lips were blue, and her eyes had misted over.

"What happened?" he asked, as the arctic front blasted into his brain and he fell over sideways.

She lumbered down the avenue. Chunks of ice fell from her and crashed on the pavement: "I am woman. Woman is fire. Woman is ice. Woman has no need of man." 

The End

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