But now that wall of black smoke, of fire, was coming straight toward me. And for a few minutes, I just stood there. A stark realisation occurred to me. If I stayed here, it’d all be over. I could sit on the couch, open the red wine I was never allowed to touch, raise my glass, and toast the end of my days as the fire came to greet me. It wouldn’t be a terrible way to die. Not really. No, living my life as it was was a terrible way to die.
