House Fire on 11th Avenue

Dolores is ok, thank God. So well that it took determined efforts on the part of many to get her to leave her home and go to the hospital to get checked over, just in case.

I often see her sweeping the front yard of her house, a bowfront on 11th Avenue which may now have some degree of fire damage. The fire started on the first floor, but I saw a little smoke coming out of the window on the second floor. Dolores' cousin told me of her devotion to her home which I'm sure she keeps immaculate. It's her place in the world, and we're her people. Even me whose name she doesn't know but whom she still smiles at in that way of hers.

Who does she think she is smiling like that? Why doesn't she just smirk at my poor fashion choices? Doesn't she know we live in the age of insolence, where's her self-righteous indignation, her simmering contempt and snarkiness. Why isn't she a douchebag? Is it because at this point she might not have much of a future to hate herself for ruining? Oh, the steep burden of youth and ambition...

Engines on the scene included the 122, 220, 147 (Da Pride a Flatbush), 239, 281, 1, 240 and 148. Rac Unit 2, Ambulance 232 and several of other vehicles. About 20 firemen stood in a semicircle folding up their hose, a solemn zen-like ritual. My heart is theirs, big pansy that I am.