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Brian and I stood in the driveway of our home.  It was still a sight to behold.

"At least it didn't burn completely to the ground," he said.

I nodded, unable to say much.  It had been two days.  Everything was quiet now.  The fire trucks were gone.  The news media packed up and left.  The neighborhood gathering had disappeared.  Everyone had gone back to their normal lives.

We all escaped safely, that's what was most important.  No matter how many times I repeated those words to myself, it was still very emotional to see our home destroyed, along with everything in it.

A mini-van pulled up to the edge of the driveway.  I couldn't bring myself to turn around.  I'd had my fill of sightseers; those who drove by taking videos and photographs of our burned home.  I am sure it was interesting to see, but I was not entertained.

"This happened to me a year ago," I heard a voice say from the window of the mini-van.

I turned to see a middle-aged woman with a…

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