That Smell.

Smoke.
Not the smell of fireplaces or BBQ smoke.
That smell of things that weren't meant to burn burning.

I'm not sure if it was that smell that woke me, or Mau's little nose persistantly headbutting into my hand.
I got up. A quick check confirmed that the smoke was coming from outside, not inside. A wave of nausea passed. I really hate that smell. Bad memories.
My throat burned and my eyes stung.
I called to Nick and looked out the window. Small fire, relatively speaking, but within a block.

We stumbled into shoes, and walked outside.
It was the Kurdish church and community center.
Which was a small relief, because it would be empty at night.
But what a loss to our Kurdish community. This center was their little slice of home. A daycare, english classes, parties. Gone.

We watched until we could see that the firemen had it under control.

But I couldn't get back to sleep.
My head still hurts and my eyes still sting.

I had cookies for breakfast.

(Article here)