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I am going to my parent's and I see them standing in the wreckage of their house, burnt to the ground. They are trying to salvage things.

I am horrified. I am grown and don't live with them any more. I hurry to them, but they are entirely calm. They are not crying or shocked or horrified. I instantly switch to the family mode, and hide my horror, fear and grief. I ask calmly if I can help and my mother nods. I ask what they will do now and they do not answer.

The house is not any one that they lived in. It is in a subdivision, with the maze of winding streets and houses alike. No neighbors are out, the driveways are empty, the fire is out. Even the firefighters have left. It is sunny. The house is down to the foundation, blackened charcoal bits left. It is wet charcoal, not smoldering. My parents wander vaguely looking for something. Anything. And my sister is there too, also grown, also seemingly calm.

I wake up.

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