An hour ago, I was upstairs rowing when I felt a truck stop in front of the house, but I was rowing so I didn’t get up to find out if it was selling ice cream. I immediately forgot about this truck because I have no attention span and I almost never eat ice cream. Some time later, Pete mentioned the fire trucks parked in front of our house. I have to say I was really surprised. When your house receives that kind of attention, usually you’re aware of something a little different going on. The strangers with the big yellow coats are a tip off. Pete said the trucks were actually addressing an incendiary situation two doors down and their presence in front of our house was merely friendly. I wondered if we should bake something but that seemed like pandering. Every gust of fresh air carries with it an intensely chemical smell, familiar for all the wrong reasons: grease, lighter fluid and something else I’d rather not think too much about. The lights are very twinkly.