The garbage trucks woke me at ten to six.

At six I woke again because SF General Hospital was going up in flames across the road. I scrambled downstairs and tried to call 911 with slow and boneless fingers. A woman looked me in the eye with amused contempt:

“They won’t come. The city is on fire. All of New York is on fire.”

I was dumbfounded. “How – ?” But she had turned away.

It’s just a dream, I told myself, and woke up. The fire was in Astrid’s house, a little way up Bluegum Crescent. My family and neighbours were in the street in their pyjamas and dressing gowns, avidly watching the blaze. I pulled out my StarTac and tried to call 911 with slow and boneless fingers. Big Al watched me with amused contempt:

“It’s 000 in Australia.”

I left them to it, and spent the rest of the morning rearranging jasmine and Meyer lemons on my patio, until I woke up.

Posted in uncategorized | Comments Off on fire!

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