“This is being oversimplified.”
I expected Richard to argue.
Instead, he reached into his jacket and took out his phone.
He tapped the screen.
Then he held it up.
A video began playing.
I recognized the restaurant immediately.
Security footage.
The dining room.
The front window.
Smoke visible across the street.
At the bottom of the screen was a timestamp.
6:42 p.m.
I watched myself run from the kitchen toward the entrance.
Then Greg stepped into view.
He caught my arm.
Even without sound, I remembered every word.
Where do you think you’re going?
There are people inside that building.
The fire department is coming.
I can see a kid at the window.
You walk out that door, don’t come back.
On the video, I pulled free and ran outside.
Richard stopped the footage.
Nobody spoke.
Greg looked furious.
“How did you get that?”
Richard’s daughter answered.
