Everything looked normal—until the smoke started pouring out the windows. It began as a thin, almost unnoticeable wisp curling from the corner of a second-story window. It quickly thickened, blackening the sky and adding a sense of foreboding to the otherwise peaceful suburban street. The house belonged to the Thompsons, a family well-known in the neighborhood for their meticulously manicured lawn and the vibrant flower beds that lined the walkway to their front door
that fateful Tuesday afternoon, the neighborhood was alive with the usual sounds of suburban life. Lawnmowers hummed in the distance, children played on the sidewalks, and the scent of barbecue filled the air. Jessica Parker, who lived across the street, was the first to notice the smoke. She had been tending to her garden, as she did every afternoon, when she glanced up and saw the ominous dark tendrils escaping from the Thompson’s upstairs window.
Heart pounding, she dashed into her house, grabbed her phone, and dialed 911 with trembling fingers. “There’s a fire at the Thompsons’!” she yelled into the receiver. Her mind raced with concern for the family, hoping they were not inside. As she hung up, she noticed neighbors emerging from their homes, drawn by the acrid scent and gathering cloud.
