My team and I sped to your house, sirens blaring all around us.

I couldn’t even put into words the feeling I got when I heard your address and “fire” in the same sentence. Were you home? Are you hurt? It felt like someone punched me in the gut.

I’m barking at the driver to go faster, but he’s claiming he’s already going as fast as he can. Bullshit.

The other members of my team in the truck are confused as to why I’m practically freaking out about this particular house. They have no idea that you and I dated for almost a year and haven’t seen each other since.

You still live in the same district as my station, so you and I both knew that if something like this ever happened, we would have to see each other. But it hasn’t. Until now.

We pull up to your street to see you standing outside, next to your mailbox. At least you remembered to put as much distance between you and the fire as possible.