When the Fire Took Everything, So Did My Illusions
The fire didn’t knock. It didn’t warn.
It came like a living thing—fast, greedy, unstoppable.
By the time the sirens reached my farm in Extremadura, the sky had turned the color of rust. Flames rolled across the hills, leaping fences, devouring olive trees, clawing at the house I’d spent three decades building with my own hands. When the firefighters pulled me away, I begged for one last look.
All I saw was smoke drifting where my life used to be.
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