No, not an actual physical fire. But a psychological one – maybe metaphysical. Not one that can be put out by water or foam. Still – a fire of epic proportions. “Your house is on fire, friend. You can only keep what you really need.” That is what David told her, our friend, when we finally got there. To her apartment. The apartment we knew, yet somehow knew not at all. We had been in the apartment many times over the years. She is a family friend. She became a citizen with the assistance of our family. She reveres our family – keeps photos displayed in prominent places. When our matriarch and patriarch died, we became her family. We seem to be her only real friends. She has acquaintances – people she waits in line with in the early morning to get gifts of food from the local church or mosque, people who live in her building. But her walls are so thick – her guard up so strong – that one wrong move (so often unintended) cuts people out of her life