The Fallacy of Isaac Brenner
an excerpt

Isaac stared at the American flag on the wall, and thought about nothing. He just stared at the fabric, trying to make out individual fibers from ten feet away. His teacher was discussing the life of Eli Whitney when it happened.
A spark appeared on the precice tip of the flag. It wasn’t much, but the flag caught anyway. Isaac watched a fire start out of midair without shaking the world history detatchment. That’s interesting, he thought What a statement the world is making about United State politics. I wonder how it did that. Isaac would have been shocked at his complacency, but he was too complacent to be shocked.
The flag burned, and a couple students glanced at it with the same apathy as Isaac, then back at the teacher. The flames burned down the small flagpole, and onto the stone. The wall, made of concrete bricks, was on fire. Wait, thought Isaac Stone doesn’t burn. Holy shit! It was then that he panicked, and his complacency fell apart. He looked at the class, but they didn’t stare back, just into the little space just before their eyes as if they were watching some little bug hover there. Isaac stood to run for the door, and a couple looked at him, but nothing more.
Isaac yelled, “Fire!”
People looked at him, and then at the inferno blooming behind him. The fire covered much of the front wall, and had begun to eat into the white board. Panic ensued as if the blaze had just begun. The class ran to the second door as far away from the fire as possible. They piled out in a manic crowd. Someone smashed the fire alarm, and people piled out of classrooms, creating a screaming river of people heading out the door. Everyone was yelling for someone else, the person that they would most hate to leave without, and in the ensuing din, not a single person could be heard.
Isaac went with the crowd, choosing risking being trampled over death by burning. After much longer than nessisarily nessesary, he was outside the building. He turned and watched his school burn to the ground.