After her quick mourning of her husband my mother remembered that I needed her now.
“We need to get out of here.” she said searching for an exit.
“Lets go see if the stairs are still in tact.” I suggested.
We broke down the door to the service hallway. The lights were flickering and it was hot from the many small fires. We stepped over the bodies of waiters and waitresses and other assorted people. They were all severely burned.
“Flash Fire.” My mother said softly.
“Just don’t look at them and hurry along.” she now urged to me.
We finally came to an intact stairwell and headed down. We came to the ground level and walked through the once grand lobby of the building. We headed out to the street where the smell of death lingered in the air. I took a moment to look at my mother, her champagne colored dress ripped below the knees so she had much easier movement. Her face bloodied and bruised, her hair a mess fluttering in the wind. I admired her bravery, she knew exactly what she was doing.