The voice of my neighbor crackled through the phone with a palpable sense of urgency, "Quinn, you need to come back immediately. Your house is on fire, and there's been an explosion!"
"I'll be right there," I responded.
After I hung up the phone, Rebecca looked at me with concern etched on her face. "What's wrong?"
"My house is on fire," I stated.
"Oh no! Let's go back right away!"
Rebecca didn't hesitate; she swiftly ushered me into her car, and with a sense of urgency, she floored the accelerator.
As we sped back, I couldn't help but worry about her reckless driving. "Please, slow down. There's no need to rush."
"How can you be so calm at a time like this? I'd be panicking!"
"Panic won't change what's meant to be," I replied.
We arrived at the entrance of my community to find thick smoke billowing from my apartment building.
We parked hurriedly and ran towards my home.
By the time we reached the scene, the fire had been extinguished, but the devastation was evident. The windows of my home were shattered, and the walls were blackened and crumbling.