The story so far:
Poor Devon had finally been advised, or rather forced, to contact a psychiatrist about his flaming issues. His boss wasn't fully aware of the happenings or the specific details of whatever condition he had, but no matter what it was, his boss made it perfectly clear that he wanted it "taken care of NOW". Thus, Devon was walking the streets of the busy city to see the psychiatrist recommended to him by the secretary. She was a psycho-nut, too, only her problems weren't as severe. She just thought that the world was going to end at any second. She also had a string of good luck charms and amulets hanging around her neck. On some days when the flames weren't eating at his eyes, he found her to be extremely attractive.
None of that mattered today. He couldn't talk. His lips were burning so bad he thought that he might scream and run to the nearest hydrant, rip it open, and throw his face into the high pressured water. But if he did that, the flames might travel into his mouth, thus entering his body which means he would be burning from the inside out. There was only one easy solution: drink as much cold water as humanly possible. He even resorted to using some new chapstick that had a "cool, refreshing feel" after being applied. These temporary solutions worked for the time being.
Devon paused at a street corner and pulled out a piece of crumpled paper. On it was the address and name of the psychiatrist, along with simple directions. Having a feeble grip on the piece of paper, a fairly strong gust of wind snagged it from his grasp and carried it away into the heavy traffic. At first he tried to grab it from mid-air, but after he took one step into the street and a car whizzed by him, he thought it would be best to stay on the sidewalk.
All Devon could do was stand there and watch as his last chance to finally get better landed in the middle of the busy intersection. Car after car drove over it. His face was absolutely horrified at the scene. He didn't know where to go now. He barely remembered the psychiatrist's name let alone the name of the office. As everyone began walking from one side of the street to the next, he just stood there, trying to figure what to do next.