I wanted to bolt back into my burning house and gather up the things I had left behind. I wanted to run back through the front door and be home. But the front door wasn’t a lock with a deadbolt. If it were just a lock with a deadbolt, my adrenaline would have been able to kick it in. Instead, roaring black and orange flames swallowed the space where the door used to be. I could never go back home again.