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...ot to take care of the details. Darting from room to room you found nothing but smoke and the sleepy remains of bourgeois life. As you made your way further to the back of the house, the smoke gets thicker and your shirt clung to you with sweat. In the kitchen, slumped-over in a wheelchair across the table from a screaming fire over a blackened stove, Ralph something-or-other waited for you to rescue him.
Leaping over chairs and smashed dinnerware you hoisted the unconscious man from the chair and swung him over your shoulder. Without wasting another second, you turned and lunged out of the house.
It didn't strike you how much your lungs hurt until you were out of the house and clean air sliced into them, or how your feet were needled with broken china and glass. You were dizzy, and after you plopped poor unconscious Ralph on the lawn next to his wife, you joined him, covered in soot, minor burns, and completely passed-out.
Leaping over chairs and smashed dinnerware you hoisted the unconscious man from the chair and swung him over your shoulder. Without wasting another second, you turned and lunged out of the house.
It didn't strike you how much your lungs hurt until you were out of the house and clean air sliced into them, or how your feet were needled with broken china and glass. You were dizzy, and after you plopped poor unconscious Ralph on the lawn next to his wife, you joined him, covered in soot, minor burns, and completely passed-out.
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