At that moment I heard someone calling from behind me.

“David?”

I turned around. It was Anna. She was holding August on her hip and Lou was running just behind them. They must have run out of the house the minute she noticed the smell of smoke.

Tears were running down her face and she screamed. “David! Wait!”

“I have to go inside,” I called. “I have to find Thomas!”

“No,” she said. “No!” With one bound she was at my side. “You’re not going in there!”

“I have to!” I said. “Thomas is there.”

But then she handed me August. She lifted him toward me and forced me to take him. And then she lifted Lou up on her arm and Lou hid her face against her shoulder. I could hear her crying.

“Now we have to run,” Anna said. “You see that. Now we have to get out of here!”

I stood there holding August. He smiled at me, understanding nothing. A smile with four white teeth. I don’t understand a thing either, I thought.

“David!” Anna said.

“It’s growing,” Lou said.

I turned toward the plant. The fire was a raging beast that ate everything. The sparks spread, now reaching the dry grass on the dunes and the bone-dry trees behind them. The flames devoured everything in their path—they were a beast growing with everything it swallowed, growing ever larger, more powerful, and at an ever-increasing pace.

Then, finally, I managed to run. August thudded against my hip. He laughed, thinking it was a game.

“Will we make it to the apartment?” I asked.

“Yes,” Anna said. “We have to make it. Our passports are there. Everything is there.”

We ran toward the city. Our breath tore at our throats, our eyes were stinging. We rushed down the esplanade where the old summer villas were locked up and covered in dust.

We were faster than the fire.

“We’re going to make it,” I said. “It will be fine. We will make it. It will be fine.” Again and again I spoke exactly those words, like they were a jingle.

Through deserted streets, past boarded-up stores. Up the stairs to our apartment. It smelled so good, I thought. Home, I loved that smell. Then I caught sight of my reflection in the mirror. A white man, covered in ashes.

“Look here.” Anna moistened a towel with water from a keg and tossed it to me. I wiped the worst of it off me. At the same time she stuffed some clothing and a little food into a bag.

“And the passports,” I said.

“Yes,” she replied. “I already packed them.”

“Good job.”

Actually I wanted to say more. Ask her for forgiveness. I should have apologized. Apologized for making us stay. For not listening to her. For our still being here. For having to leave our home like this, without anything.