It had a copper sink and a small under-counter refrigerator.

Between us and the wet bar lay a burning bookcase.

The shelves were tilting, spilling flaming novels onto the carpet.

“Stay under the desk,” I told Ethan.

“Keep your head close to the floor.”

I stood up, keeping my body as low as possible.

The smoke was thickest near the ceiling, a heavy black blanket.

I crawled toward the wet bar, my hands burning against the hot floorboards.

I reached the copper sink and grabbed the faucet.

The metal was hot, but I turned it with all my strength.

Cold water poured out, splashing against the copper basin.

I looked around for something to use as a shield.

On the small leather sofa nearby, there was a heavy wool throw blanket.

It was dark green, decorated with the Hawthorne crest.

I grabbed the corner of the blanket and dragged it to the sink.

I stuffed the thick wool into the basin, letting the water soak through the fibers.

The blanket grew heavy and dark as it absorbed the water.

It smelled of wet wool and old dust.