What I remember most was how dark it was. In all the movies and TV shows I’d ever seen, when there was a fire, the room was all bright with flames. THe room I was in was dark with smoke, thick, cloying, burning smoke. And the smell. Everything that burns has a particular odor, like wood smoke, or melted plastic, or the molten steel of a tea kettle left too long on the stove so it boiled dry but kept getting hotter and hotter until it melted into the stovetop, igniting a fire on the counter tops which spread to the wall and flashed across the ceiling, but with all those flames, I couldn’t see the flickering hungry light for all the dense smoke, filling my eyes, filling my lungs, burning me from the inside.