She smiles.

"That was protecting people."

She holds a red rose matchbook. Flicks one. Lets it drop.

She brakes a block from the church. The heat hits her face through the windshield. Familiar. Almost welcoming.

The other Hannah smiles. "Neither are you. Not anymore." Church steps.

The flames move like dancers — hungry, precise. Wooden pews crackle in unison. Stained glass explodes outward, shards landing on the wet grass like frozen confetti.