(no subject)
We responded to a three alarm fire. I jumped out the back of the ambulance before it even had time to stop. A woman was screaming “my baby, my baby.” I ran to the base of the nearest ladder just as a firefighter was coming down. He cradled something in his arm.
When he reached the bottom I could see he had been badly burned. He didn’t seem to notice. He turned to me with his pleading bloodshot eyes. “Do something!” He cried. He held out his arm. The heat of the fire had fused the infant to his own charred limb.
Don’t get me wrong. I love my job. But sometimes I wonder if I should have been a chef or a musician instead.