The Wistful Witness
The fire starts in the basement. You do not see the sparks. You only feel the heat. It rises like a tide. It touches your ankles. It climbs. You are standing in the kitchen. The linoleum is cold under your feet. The clock ticks. It is a heavy sound. It is the only sound. The house is old. Brick and timber. It smells of dust and dried lavender. You have lived here for forty years. Your father...
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