The cheap coal stove had burned out. Its walls had cracked apart, and a slurry of ash and dark water pooled across the ground in a congealed mess.
Shattered pieces of the oxygen concentrator lay scattered everywhere, plastic and metal components warped and melted beyond recognition.
Dad's gaze drifted to the twin bed.
The mattress had melted under the heat, warped and sagging, its springs exposed like bare ribs.
Fused to the surface of that melted mattress was a blackened, curled mass. Drawn up tight like a shrimp.
His eyes went wide. The crystal trophy slipped from his fingers, hit the floor, and shattered.
The gilded words Family of the Year ground into the black ash.
Dad's expression froze. Every trace of color bled from his face.
His mouth opened and closed. No sound came out. His legs buckled and he collapsed against the doorframe, knees hitting the ground.
The locksmith peered over his shoulder into the room.
A scream tore through the silence of the entire building.
He dropped the saw and bolted for the exit.
