“Noel!” I cry. “Are you okay? I was so worried!” “I’m fine,” he says, sounding absolutely and completely fine. “I turned off my phone when I was at work, and I just got all your messages.” “Don’t turn on the stove!” “I won’t!” He laughs. “Actually, I stopped off to get fast food on the way back. I didn’t feel like spaghetti and meatballs, so there was no reason to turn on the stove. But I called the fire department, and they’re going to check things out.” So that’s why the fire truck was headed to my house. Thank God.
