One morning I woke to the sound of my Family's despair, and I ready myself for the day ahead and descend down my aunt's stairs. Why me? I asked myself sorrowfully. Taking steady breaths, I hold my emotions within; minute by minute, my head begins to spin. She's so young, they say. I know I'll remember this day by day. Traffic cluttered the main road of which I lived, childeren in school buses stared in awe at the home engulfed in flames. The fire danced a deadly routine about the doors and picture frames. Teasing the fighters inside and unveiling its trickery with destruction. You've lost everything, Mother said. The thought of the reporters on T.V. now sends chills down my spine, but my sweet memories save me from the thought with the familiar aroma of the pines. You can dwell in the past, but life goes fast. The burn scars of yesterday will always be there, but do a favor for yourself and be fair; keep moving.



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