My mother-in-law shaved my head while I slept on the very night the United States Army promoted me into one of the most important commands of my career.

My father’s flag was down there.

The original mortgage documents were in a fireproof safe down there.

And then I remembered something worse.

The old trunk.

Ryan’s trunk.

The one he had always said held childhood keepsakes.

I ran before anyone could stop me.

Smoke curled up the stairwell, thin but growing. I covered my mouth with my sleeve and descended far enough to see orange light licking behind the utility shelves. A trash bin burned near the wall, flames climbing toward stacked boxes.

Then I saw Ryan.