Walking up to the fire I thought, well, everything’s gone.
The fight started suddenly. One rock-and-roller said something loud. People looked. Then another rock-and-roller said something louder.
THERE WAS A FIGHT AT THE FIRE THE NIGHT MY BUILDING BURNED DOWN BY CHRISTOPHER HEFFERNAN 34THPARALLEL MAGAZINE ISSUE 83
I’d stayed after work to have a drink with Edward at Rhinestone’s. No-one was around and he was feeling sorry for himself because his girl had left him and his brother was out of town. Edward was always feeling sorry for himself for one reason or another. I said, yeah, I’d have a drink with him, talk about sports-ball, talk about music-face, keep him company.
We had three so it was probably after 12. When I got home it was probably one, maybe later.
Fire trucks were lined up on the street. Parked this way. Parked the other way. A whole bunch. Maybe a dozen. No sirens or anything. The red and white lights whirling around on the brick. The firemen moving back and forth. And there was no running. They walked. They walked from the trucks to…