A blaring alarm jolts me awake at six in the evening.
Racing to the computer, I see the message flash across the screen: PLEASE EXIT THE BUILDING IN THE NEXT 5 MINUTES, 37 SECONDS. The countdown ticks down relentlessly as I grab a newly printed file and shout for the twins. We sprint to the garage, uncovering an old navy-blue Chevy Silverado, only to find... no keys. Frantically, I tear through the bedroom and finally find them, with just two minutes left. The twins are asleep on the couch, so I flip it, jolting them awake. "What the hell!" Jazz screams, but I'm already pushing them toward the garage, shouting, "We need to go!" We're a mile away when the explosion shakes the earth behind us.
I glance in the rearview mirror at the rising fireball and think, So this is my life now.