The door was closed.
On one side of the door, things were in motion that seemed inescapable. The slamming of that door trapping those inside to a grisly and terrible fate. The fire had started at the back of the house. Sweeping inward and upward, swallowing doorways and windows in an unquenchable hunger that seemed alive and sentient. The family, all six of them scurried about the two-story home looking for egress or safety. Stymied at every turn by the roaring flames fed by gasoline and malicious intent.
On the other side of the door, I watched, holding it shut.