THERAPEUTIC FOR WE READERS, TOO!
On June 11th, while I was sleeping, I heard a roar.
“Get out! FIRE!”
I awoke dazed and confused, struggling to grasp whether I was dreaming or if this was reality.
My hands automatically went for my glasses, but somehow they didn’t go for my wallet or phone. I escaped the house; my mother carried out by a kind stranger who had bellowed the earlier command, and my father closely following him.
We struggled to get to a safe distance as we saw a truck inflamed. The duct-cleaning truck had caught fire, and that had traveled to our neighbors. Our house is semi-detached, and with the right push from the wind, the flames spread across our roof. And I watched with horror as our house was disintegrating.
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