6 | Nero

He clicks it. The old QuickTime logo spins. Then, shaky-cam footage fills the screen. It’s the Fourth of July. Someone is laughing. A mortar tube tips over. A roman candle shoots sideways, into a neighbor’s dry hedge. The scream is distant at first, then loud. Sirens. His own teenage voice, high and terrified: “Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit.”

He looks at the cartoon emperor on the old software box, still peeking out of the cardboard box. Nero. The man who supposedly fiddled while Rome burned. nero 6

“You made this?” she asked, turning the disc over. He’d used a silver Sharpie to draw a tiny flame on it. He clicks it

Inside, there are folders. “School.” “Music.” And one called “Summer.” high and terrified: “Oh shit