“Chasing the Echoes of Home: A Journey Through Memory and Migration”
I tried to switch on the light, but the power was still out.
Ginnie was at the window. “Fire!” She ran out of the room. “Mom! Mom! Daddy!”
I grabbed my book and followed her, not wanting to be left alone.
“Dear God.” Hanalea had wrapped herself in a blanket and was clutching the ends against her chest. Her naked shoulders shuddered with cold. We stood next to her at the living room window.
The building across the street was on fire, right up to the third storey. Flames from a burning car leapt into the night. Glass littered the sidewalk. Groovy’s neon sign was gone. A black, gaping hole stood in place of its windows. A turbaned man ran out of the ruined shop with an armful of clothing. Another man followed behind with a mannequin over his shoulder, thick billows of smoke chasing behind as they disappeared in the gathering crowd.
Post Comment