The night their house goes up in flames, April stumbles out the front door with her baby in one arm and a book in the other. Otto points his little finger over her shoulder at the house, yelling unintelligible warnings.

Leo is still inside, grabbing Sadie from her bed.

A fist of dark smoke punches through a window and races out into the sky. At the sound of glass exploding, April glances back. The fire is coming from the kitchen.

Her legs carry her away from their home of almost a decade, her lungs eagerly drawing in air. She blows on Otto’s red face as she runs—the heat came fast. Sixty yards down their driveway, she turns around mumbling, “Why aren’t they out yet?” Coughing, she can’t do anything but watch flames pour from the kitchen window. She doesn’t realize it, but she is repeating Sadie’s name.

The wail of a siren gets closer. Everything is happening too fast and too slow. April’s vision blurs as reds and blues swirl across her skin, strands of hair sticking to her forehead.

Moving lips appear in front of her. “Is anyone still inside?”

Another face beside the first. “She’s in shock.”

A heavy hand on her shoulder. “Ma’am, look at me.”

She does, and the eyes she sees are green like Leo’s. The lips repeat, “Is anyone still inside?”

April nods. “My—”

But the men are already running toward the blaze.

As they sprint to the house, Leo busts through the door with an arm shielding his face and Sadie slung over his shoulder. Behind him, the front corner of the house begins to yaw. Then, a deafening crack.