“What's wrong, Colton? Was it another exhausting day at work?” My wife had affirmed this from my melancholy facial expression as I walked through the door. She sat me down and began gently squeezing her soft hands on my tense shoulders, conveying my utmost anguish to me. It had become a ritual; returning home from the department terrified, after viewing the Flames. The flames, I had thought to myself. They had not simply been the ones who had destroyed the buildings, but also the ones I had seen embodied in the eyes of the victim. I had been trained to extinguish those in buildings, however, the fear and panic that had been built up in them, seeing everything they loved and held dear disappear into the flames, never to be extinguished, creates an emotional scar threshed into their soul , viewed through their eyes. No one had ever been the same again, something inside them had changed them. Although the work was hard, I simply loved helping others, even at a young age and had concluded that employment that benefited my friendly nature would make me feel fulfilled and fulfilled. My wife had stopped texting me and started caressing me, while playing with my thick, tangled dark hair. “Is there anything you would like to share with me?” he said. She has always been there for me, supporting me, and I love her with all my heart. What started from a simple physical attraction, developed and grew into a mutual bond, our five-year marriage commitment demonstrated our true bond. It's his beautiful soul, I concluded. She is genuine and her humility and attentiveness are distinct and seductive qualities that lead me to appreciate her more and more. There are many memories to tell; shared with her, however I couldn't... half sheet.... Now restless in my bed, I decide to go and visit the women in the hospital. I rush over and ask the attendant for his room number. He told me "Room 221 on the second floor". I find her room and she lies there, motionless, with several machines connected, including the heart monitor, which is constantly beeping. “I'm sorry. This is all my fault. I tell her. There was a long pause. Once again I repeat “I'm sorry”. Faintly, I hear her say: “We all make mistakes, the important thing is that we did our best. I appreciate all the efforts you have made to save my little girl, but now the time is approaching to join her at the gates." "Please don't leave us." I cry. She giggles and says “Angels won't be new to me in heaven, I've met one before. Thanks for everything.” And the heart rate monitor emits a loud, distinct beep while displaying a straight line on the screen. She's dead.