Satisfying; there were no other words to describe this week of work, apart from a cat stuck on a tree, unwary people to be rescued, a few false alarms, and a minor industrial accident. Everything was going well in the best of all possible worlds—in this case, my world.

From these stated facts, you will have understood that I am a firefighter, having been in this profession for almost five years.

My previous diatribe might make me seem a little lazy, don't you think? I love what I do. Since I was little, it was a dream that I cherished, and despite age and other subjects that may have captured my attention, I remained faithful to it until it came to fruition.

Saving people from fires and other disasters, while rewarding, is quite taxing. As you grow up and gain prominence in the profession, your illusions are quickly replaced by harsh reality, especially when the first person you couldn't save comes to haunt your dreams. Through willpower and support, we end up overcoming it or not. Luckily, I was able to.

Unless you are a thrill-seeker or an arsonist firefighter, you come to prefer calm to adrenaline; the lives of others are better than anything.

"I'm home!" I shouted, slamming the door behind me. Quick as lightning, a big ball of fur fell on me and licked my face until I was breathless. "I only left this morning," I said to my excited dog, while stroking his nose. With him, it was always the same old story. I finished petting him, hung up my keys, and then headed into the kitchen to wash my hands. After wiping them off, I took the package that I had picked up at a fast food restaurant not too far from my house. I made myself comfortable on the soft sofa, while heaving a sigh of satisfaction.

While I was unpacking the package, I turned on the TV to watch my favorite program. While I was biting into my sandwich, a disturbing beep was heard. Getting up wearily, I dragged my feet to see what was happening. I barely recovered; I almost dropped my phone in surprise, so much so that I was shocked. The Red Star Center, which was the largest building in the city, had just suffered a large explosion; the origin was still unknown. I didn't even bother to read the rest; without wasting time, I put on my shoes again, put on a jacket, collected my keys, and sped out of the house.

When I arrived at the barracks, there was a commotion. Without a word, I rushed to my locker to collect my equipment. A few minutes later, my colleagues and I were given a debriefing on the situation and what was expected of us.

 Cough! Cough! My throat was dry and irritated, and I had difficulty swallowing. The amount of ash and dust I had inhaled despite my protection was alarming. I didn't know what caused the explosion, but it was powerful considering how quickly the building was crumbling by the hour.

We had been working for hours, and from what I saw, the building was ruined and condemned. But we couldn't abandon the people who were on the most affected floors. Even though we had already lost two of our members. Having finished inspecting this section that I was surveying, I was about to turn back when suddenly I heard a scream. It was barely perceptible, and given the amount of extraneous noise that reigned here, nothing guaranteed that it was a person. I was about to continue moving forward when the cry became more distinct and clearer. They were sobs, and more precisely, those of a child. Backing up, I rushed into the crevasse where they came from, taking appropriate precautions. For about ten minutes, I had to clear the ground to extract the child while ensuring our mutual safety. "Thanks, my God!" I was able to extract it without difficulty. Without wasting time, with the child on my back, I set off. Although laborious and grueling (I could barely see in front of me), the descent passed without much hassle other than the smoke, ashes, and dust attacking our lungs.

At the foot of the building, a rescue team was already waiting for us. With the child being the priority, I quickly handed him over to be taken care of. The adrenaline was fading, and I felt my legs falter, fatigue overtaking me at an alarming rate. In my entire career, it was the first time that I had experienced such a disaster. Dead civilians, dead colleagues, a fire that was difficult to control, and above all, me coming close to death several times in these dark and morbid corridors. I don't know why, but I wanted to cry and scream at the top of my lungs, but I couldn't help but make the people who had loved ones stuck inside more distressed. Whore! I was a fucking firefighter, saving and giving hope; that was my life.

While I was thinking about it, which only lasted a short time, people came to pick me up when they saw my distress. The space under the building was not at all safe. While they were escorting me, suddenly a sickening crack was heard. Instead of running, we froze in place. A section of the building was breaking away and falling at a prodigious speed. Shaken from our torpor, we suddenly started running, or rather, they dragged me. Despite all my good will, my legs refused to obey me. The shadow of the giant rubble grew bigger and bigger; we wouldn't escape at this pace. With resolute eyes, I took a deep breath. With force, I pushed what supported me forward. On their faces, the shock was palpable, but through silent acceptance, they understood my gesture. They resumed their races with more fervor, quickly moving away from danger.

I sprawled on the ground, my gaze fixed on the mass that was going to flatten me on the road. His shadow had already enveloped me in a cold embrace. I thought of Bobby, my dog, and of the fact that I left nothing behind me. Was I sad? Did I have any regrets? I don't know; I don't think so. All I knew was that this fucking week was okay.