The fire...
It was bright. Sirens blaring. Crowds had gathered.
A man stood. The cold breeze brushed against him.
That was his house. No... His life.
He dropped to his knees. Hands too weak to hold anything.
The phone dropped, and a screen lit up with a picture of his wife and two kids.
The world suddenly grew fuzzy. His chest tightened. His breath was shaky. His face contorted. He wanted to scream. But he couldn't.
An elderly woman, his neighbor, noticed the father. She rushed to his side and bent down, quickly hugging him with all her strength. "I-... I'm so sorry, dear." Her voice stammered as she gently whispered those words.
His body clenched. Tears streaming down his face.
Then a visceral and raw scream could be heard.
The memories of his family broke like a dam: an awkward first meeting, a tearful proposal, happy cheers for their marriage, the miraculous birth of their two kids, and a picture taken of his family smiling together.
A pillar of the house broke. A surge of heat washed over them, and for a delirious second, in the midst of the old woman's fierce embrace, it felt like being hugged from all sides. His scream painfully descended into a sorrowful cry at that mere, stupid thought.
---<>---
The smell of smoke and grief had faded, replaced months later by the sterile scent of office dust.
The man, now a mere shell of his past self. Dark eye bags had formed around his eyes after countless sleepless nights spent sobbing. His body had grown pale and weak. Only surviving off of instant noodles and diet sodas.
He sat in the dead of night at the office. Staring out into the beautiful shimmering lights, for a second, the lights shaped into a fuzzy memory of his family smiling. Then the clouds swallowed, and a cold drizzle streaked across the window. He let out a low and quiet sigh. Turning off his computer, he started preparing to leave the office.
He shrugged on his coat, the fabric hanging loose on shoulders that had once been broader. Something that had carried a meaningful weight had now been eroded...
The man walked with a hollowness to his stride.
The company didn't pay for overtime. But he still insisted. He knew that when he returned home, no one would be there waiting for him.
Only a dark and damp apartment awaited him.
Placing the timesheet back, he noticed a small note hiding something behind it. The note read, "Take care of yourself, Deaven! - Serrah" Peeling the note back, a small snack hid underneath.
The sound of rain could be heard outside the door. He stood still. Frozen in place. Contemplating something. His hand slowly reached out and then halted...
He blinked, then turned around to the door. The door creaked, and he left his office building. His hands rustling in his pockets. Heading towards the crossing light.
On the table, a note and a snack had disappeared.