THE ALARM

It’s 4:30 a.m. and the alarms have stopped. When woken by the blaring sound of the smoke alarm over my bed, I tried to figure out what was happening. My head was not clear. Like usually happens when woken from a deep sleep I had to pee. The building could have been coming down around me, but I still had to pee. Next I did what most of us do — try to find what I did to set it off. Since the only alarm we can hear is in our apartment, we are all usually sure we must have done something.

There was no smell of fire or smoke. The stove was not on. There was nothing in front of the only heater I use. I turned my two overhead fans on and considered opening some windows, but opened my door instead. There was smoke all right but people were wandering the hall. No one seemed anxious to leave. While outside my door, Ron walked by and said he had to get out of here because of the noise and smoke. A few minutes latter the fire department is all over the building. They were looking for Ron. The smoke came from his apartment. Apparently he left his stove on. No one knew what it was exactly, but there was something on the stove. Still don’t know what it was.

There was a group in front of my door trying to guess what caused it and also wondering where Ron went. Every fireman wanted to know where he was.

I went outside in my robe to see if I could detect his lit cigarette. The moonlight was not seeping through the overcast but I thought I might see his cigarette. I don’t know why I thought that because my eyes were still blurry from lack of sleep. None of us ever saw him. They were angry and wanted to have a talk. One the other hand, the fresh air was wonderful and it felt warmer than during the day.

Ron is the resident alcoholic of our building and the apartment was ripe with the smell. We still do not know what was on the stove, but we love playing the guessing game. It makes for great gossip. So far the guesses include a pan that boiled out its water. Burnt toast (we’ve had that before. No burnt toast smell). Clothing too close to the heater, however, he said he left something on the stove so that’s out of the question. Some think he left his supper cooking and fell into a drunken stupor on the sofa and everything burnt to a crisp. This is the best story so far. Given time they may get better.

Since the fire department was anxious to find him there was much speculation about why? Most have agreed that he is in a great deal of trouble — if they ever find him. I concur with that one.

In the meantime, no one broke out the baking or made a pot of coffee so I decided to use my hard to get back to sleep hours writing. I’m tired now. Back to bed.