Into the Fire
The stairwell was suffocating. Heat slammed her face, smoke scraped her throat. She whispered to her baby, “It’s okay, Mommy’s here,” and pushed upward, sneakers pounding against concrete steps.
By the ninth floor, her lungs burned. She crouched low, cradling Layla on her hip. The baby whimpered but stayed quiet.
Aisha thought of her old apartment in Harlem, where fire safety was always a worry. Now she was running straight into the nightmare she had always feared.
