The fire got out of control so quickly – Franklin was still shocked at how little time he had. One minute it was a simple grease fire atop the stove (how clumsy – why didn’t I order out?), but the flames rapidly climbed the cabinets and set the curtains ablaze. In a matter of seconds his thoughts turned from “Whoops, let’s get the fire extinguisher” to “Oh my God, time to get out.”

Franklin scampered from his tiny kitchen to his tiny bedroom to grab his wallet and cell phone from the dresser, fully intending to dart out the door while dialing 911. He glimpsed his reflection in the mirror above the dresser and paused. His hair was an oily mess, loose strands hanging in his eyes. Ugh, I need a haircut. Setting his wallet down, he smoothed his hair off of his forehead, trying not to notice the flecks of gray above his ears. Flames licked across the threshold of his bedroom, the varnish on the dresser starting to bubble. Franklin wondered how long it and been since his last trim as his flesh began to sizzle.