The Fire by Deborah Parédez   The night Tony decided to end it all, bathing his head and limbs in gasoline and igniting himself into effigy in the third floor dressing room of the theatre, roaring and tumbling down the stairs like the damned on their way to hell, you were working late in the scene shop, goggles on, all safety procedures met, guiding plywood through the table saw’s teeth. The night Tony seared the shop’s doorframe with the stench of flesh in flames and the screams pouring from the O once his mouth now melting away, you stayed calm, moved quickly, took all the necessary precautions, you knew what to do to save his life and your own and you did it and then…