sirens blare and shutters close, we sit calmly in our humble abode until we smell the smell I’ve smelled a thousand times and going strong. we joke and skip idly around the stairs in a fashionably orderly manner, like in an empty amusement park.
“the fire smells good”, says someone, and i nearly choke at the absurdity, but i have to agree, it smells like nostalgia, the plumes of charred plastic filaments, remnants of 3d printers bringing me back to better days.
as the chaos rolls along in the background, we order truffle pasta from the vending machine, giggle at the firemen who lost their way and watch the sorry-excuse of a smoke trailing away into the blindingly blue sky as the exhausted sirens blare once again.