Her brain seemed unable to connect the smoke with the building.
Then the neighbor shouted:
“That’s your garage!”
Her face drained.
“No.”
A second wave of smoke rose.
Thicker.
Darker.
The woman dropped her handbag.
“Oh my God.”
She started running.
The neighbor grabbed his phone.
“Call 911!”
Someone shouted:
“Already calling!”
The woman hurried toward her driveway.
Her shoes slapped against the pavement.
A resident followed.
“Is anyone inside?”
The woman shook her head rapidly.
“My husband went golfing.”
“Pets?”
She stopped.
Her eyes widened.
“The dog.”
The neighbor caught up.
“Where?”
“Kitchen.”
He immediately grabbed her arm.
“No.”
She tried pulling away.
“My dog is inside.”
“You’re not going in.”
“It’s my house!”
“Exactly.”
He pointed toward the smoke.
“You wait for firefighters.”
She looked toward the front door.
The smoke remained concentrated near the attached garage.
No visible flames yet.
That almost made the situation worse.
It looked manageable.
Close.
Like something a homeowner might convince herself she could handle.
The neighbor stood between her and the path.
“Do not go inside.”
The woman’s voice broke.
“But my dog.”
Another neighbor ran over.
“I can hear him.”
Everyone went quiet.
A dog barked from inside.
The blonde woman started crying.
“Oh God.”
The neighbor looked toward the street.
“Where are they?”
As if answering him, a siren became audible in the distance.
The woman turned.
Relief crossed her face.
The siren grew louder.
A fire engine rounded the corner.
Red lights flashed across parked cars and house windows.
Residents stepped off the roadway.
The truck slowed.
Then stopped near the entrance.
The blonde woman ran toward it.
“My house!”
She pointed.
“That one!”
Two firefighters jumped down.
Another began pulling equipment from the side compartment.
The captain looked toward the house.
“Anyone inside?”
“My dog!”
“Any people?”
“No.”
The captain turned.
“Hydrant?”
A firefighter looked toward the curb.
Then stopped.
“Where is it?”
The neighbor looked at the woman.
She looked at the planter.
For one silent second, nobody moved.
The firefighter followed their eyes.
He saw the gray concrete planter.
Then noticed the small strip of red metal barely visible behind the flowers.
His face changed.
“You’ve got to be kidding me.”
The blonde woman looked stunned.
The firefighter ran toward the planter.
Another firefighter followed.
The first grabbed the concrete rim.
It barely moved.
“This thing’s heavy.”
The captain shouted:
“Get it clear!”
The neighbor joined them.