Alan stood in front of his house, hands by his sides, mouth agape. He could hear the sirens getting closer. Dimly he was aware that he should be relieved by that, but he strangely felt nothing but a weird sense of detached amusement. He’d always been an optimist, but maybe this was taking it too far. Maybe he should really talk to someone.
He’d started the day so full of hope. He was going to accomplish great things. The day was his. It had gone downhill so slowly that he hadn’t even noticed. All he’d wanted to do was make a nice dinner, one nice dinner, to have a romantic night with Taylor. And now, here he was, standing on his lawn watching his house burn.
Welp, that hadn’t gone as planned.