The house next door caught on fire last night. At 11:30, we were ironically watching “Rescue Me” when the neighbor began frantically beating on the door. Cady was going mental and so was Otto. “Fire,” he said. “The house next door is on fire.” He was breathing heavily and his voice was shaking. He was scared but had run over to tell us to get out. I put on Otto’s leash (upside down), and we all ran onto the front lawn. Patrick ran back in the house to pack up the computers and hard drives. While he was in the house, power lines were sparking, and next door Jane’s car caught on fire.
That neighbor was me. My names Kaleb Babb. Im a student over at Loyola and I live on Nashville but on the other side of Claiborne. I was coming home from work and spotted the fire with my friend Chris. I immediately panicked and ran to make sure everyone was out of the neighboring houses. When I was younger my house too caught on fire and i was without a home for over 10 months. I guess post traumatic stress is a real thing?
ReplyDeleteThanks, Kaleb, for adding to the story and for getting us out of the house. BTW, my wife, who wrote the text above, graduated from Loyola. Small world!
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