Aftermath: The Charred Remains

I stand here, staring at the smoldering ruins of what was once a home. The air is thick with the acrid smell of burnt wood and ash, and smoke still curls from the blackened beams. The green grass at my feet feels almost alien against the desolation—life clinging on, even as everything around me has turned to cinder. Every charred branch and broken window is a reminder of the fire’s fury, and the quiet that follows is heavier than any explosion.