Burning

Prologue

     Winter in New York was always freezing. It was cold enough to make icicles out of your snot. It was cold enough to to completely frost your car windows. It was cold enough to have the radiator on high and still be bundled in a blanket on the couch, which is exactly where Mrs. Furgeson was. She lived in a single-roomed apartment with terrible A/C and heating, so she had purchased a large radiator to get her through the winter. The radiator was positioned right next to the couch so Mrs. Furgeson could sit and be cozy at the same time.

She was a lady of fifty-seven, widowed, childless, and scrimpy with her money. Her main source of income was government money, but she worked weekends at a florist shop to make a little extra. She was neither happy nor unhappy with her circumstances, choosing to ignore them for the most part, leaving her life behind for the world inside the television.

It was the very same television she was watching when her tea kettle sang out, announcing the warmth of the savory drink. Wanting the annoying sound ceased as soon as possible, Mrs. Furgeson tossed the TV remote onto the coffee table, and threw her blanket off to the side before hustling to the kitchen. The blanket landed partway on the armrest, and the rest of the way on the radiator.

Mrs. Furgeson was busily employed finishing the making of her drink for the next five minutes, pouring the liquid, stirring it, tossing in some honey and sugar to make it extra sweet, with just a dash of milk, so that it hardly tasted of tea at all but only good and sweet things.

It was then she smelled smoke. At first she shrugged it off, thinking that perhaps her gas stove had let off a little. But then she walked into the living room and gave a shriek. The blanket had caught fire while resting atop the radiator. As she watched, it slipped onto the floor, quickly spreading the flames to the carpet.

Mrs. Furgeson gave another shout and raced into the hallway of the apartment building. "Fire! Fire!" she screamed, running to the red alarm at the end of the hall. Giving it a jerk and a push, she set it off, bringing to everyone's attention the flames raging in her home. There were no sprinklers set in the building, so all the alarm did was waken people to the danger.

Afraid that no one would hear or understand the piercing sound, Mrs. Furgeson began sprinting down the hall again, pounding on people's doors and shouting, "fire! Fire!" all the while still holding onto her tea.