Fire

My mother just called me downstairs, there is a house down our road on fire.
I threw on my dressing gown and dug in my cupboard for slippers, and trudged outside.

Lights.
Engines.
Smoke.
And the sound of smashing glass.

I can't imagine.
Everything you own. Literally everything. 
Up in smoke.

I feel so bloody useless, just standing in the road, a little closer stand more people.
Does oogling the destruction, the destruction of a persons wellbeing, their life, really make it any better?

So I've come back inside, started typing and here we are then.

I hope nobody is hurt. And I hope that it will be okay.
I can hear the mechanics outside, and the occasional breaking of more glass, and it can feel the rumbling against my window.

I don't want to look outside, it feels too personal. I feel like I am intruding on the beginning of the end.

Sometimes I feel so insignificant.