“Ugh.” It’s 3 am. That horrible siren has started up again. I’m up for a pee. I’m not remotely awake. “Fuck.” It’s piercing. “Gerard!” I call out. Wipe. Flush. Head to the bedroom. “GERARD!” Fuck that man sleeps like the dead. I have to kick the bed before he even starts to rustle. I don’t even have to say anything. He hears it.

“Not again…” he moans tiredly. “Cynthia?”

“Yeah, I’m on it.”

I’m wearing PJ’s. The kind with pants. Normally I’d throw on some jeans and a t-shirt just in case but this is what… the fourth time in a couple weeks? I’m clothed enough.

I grab a tote off the fridge and start chucking. Pills. Wallets. Small valuables. Gerard will get his computer. I should get mine.

We don’t have kids or pets thankfully.

“Got everything?” he asks, holding his laptop under one arm.

“No,” I scoff tiredly. “Let’s get this over with.”

Another night with another alarm and a meeting of the building’s collective minds.

We leave the apartment and I pause to knock on our neighbour’s door. She’s old. Someone’s grandmother. She’s kind of mean but I feel a duty there. So I knock. Knock again. Gerard’s locked our door and is trying to hustle me along now. That alarm is still blaring and now that I’m fully awake it makes me nervous. It always makes me nervous.

“Come on,” he urges and we walk away. Open the hallway doors. They slam shut the moment the alarm starts blaring. Don’t take the elevator it’s not ‘safe’. So we join the parade in the stairwell. Not as many people this time. Fool me thrice, I guess.

We file outside and I’m feeling foolish for not grabbing a sweater. It’s always chilly in the wee hours.

Everyone’s chatting and wondering who set it off this time. Who is tonight’s shitty cook? Who set the dryer on fire? Some of us are laughing until the first person spots the smoke. Then a lick of flame, lapping in and out of view. All laughter stops and the murmuring begins.

The sounds of a fire truck can be heard in the distance but right here, right now, we hear glass shattering as the roar of fire quickly grows and consumes. A shout as someone tries to climb out from their patio. We see faces in the windows, hear screams. I turn away and realize that the sound of sobbing is coming from me. I’m not cold anymore.