I’d seen the smoke while I was at Roy’s, slumped in a chair on the balcony with a beer in my hand, but I hadn’t given much thought to where it was coming from until I stumbled home in the morning.

The house had been reduced to a pile of steaming cinders.

I stared at the charred mess from across the street with equal parts of horror and glee. Some dark, cruel part of me wished I’d been here to watch as time began to burn, as every trace of my life to date melted and withered in the flames. Another part of me observed distantly that most people would be upset at the destruction of their childhood home, but perhaps that would come later. Once I was sober, maybe.

A body bag emerged from the house, and I watched as it was wheeled away to join the two others that had somehow escaped my notice. I’d dreamed for so long to be rid of them, and now I was. Be careful what you wish for, some might say, but there was a smile on my lips as I crossed the road. Time to face the music.