Make the Mountains Ring Or Make the Angels Cry

We’re both smiling a little stupidly. He’s wearing a turnout coat and gear. He must be sweltering. I’m warm in a guinea t and boxer shorts, holding a bottle of bright red nail polish.

Fireman: Smoke detector ringing?
Tata: Nope. You can hear it in the distance but not here.
Fireman: It’s going off in units 8 and 10.

I stare at him. We’re not in those.

Fireman: Well, call us if yours goes off.
Tata: I’ve absolutely got your number.

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