There are cases, some would call them rumors, of things burning without an external source of ignition. We’ve all heard of hay combusting spontaneously, all moist and insulated and flammable, just waiting for contact with air. But over the years there have been several cases reported of people. Combusting from the inside. If you believe in that sort of thing. Statistics show that the majority of SHC (spontaneous human combustion) events take place at night after dark, and occur among women. Specifically women who had been consuming large amounts of alcohol, letting their guts ferment. But then there are always the freak cases. Dogs. Babies. Horrible things happening in broad daylight. But our story is not about the freaks who combust; it’s about the ones who don’t. On a boring street, in a boring neighborhood, Jo and her younger brother are stranded in a humdrum summer. Things seem promised to keep traveling on at their everyday pace until one day when a girl Jo’s age, Maeve, arrives from out of town- visiting her aunt for the summer. Maeve promises to be just the right amount of distraction for the two, when a sudden bout of fate turns things (quite literally)… explosive for Jo’s family. Maeve is momentarily the last thing on their minds. Jo finds herself the talk of the town as speculation mounts as to what could possibly have happened to her suddenly very-dead brother. As the familiar world around her grows more surreal, Jo finds herself drawn to outsider Maeve when they run into each other once more at the supermarket. But as it becomes more and more apparent that Maeve can only take Jo so far away from either the absurdity or the tedium of her life, Jo must figure out a way to escape it herself.