Thursday Morning
Tim was cooking sausages on the grill and I was working when we heard the beep beep beep beep beep beep beep beep. And our lives are so electronic; this could have been anything, but it wasn't; it was a smoke detector, and it wasn't ours. Outside, sound is different; I walk to my neighbor's driveway but it is uncertain. I turn back to look and see a handful of neighbors in their driveways, watching. "Do you hear that?" I ask; one says "Yes, it's coming from that house." And I knock, and remember that my neighbor is quite aged, and I open the porch door, and through the glass on the next window, see way more smoke than I should, and I open the next door, not even thinking about knocking, and call out her name, "Are you all right?" She is pulling a heavily smoking pan off the stove with a silver fork and then greets me with a too-bright smile; everything's fine, the steak just smoked up, that's all."Just checking, that's all," I said. "I wanted to be sure you're all right." I retreated, letting the neighbors know she said everything is fine, telling Tim the same.