When I got to the front of the crowd just before the caution taped barrier, my throat closed up. My house. It was my house. I blinked a few times. I forgot about the police and the people, and ducted below the yellow tape line. My family was in there, they were supposed to be home. I heard my voice as if I were someone else screaming their names, “Mom, Dad, Johnny,” over and over again struggling against the mass of people and emergency workers who were preventing me from reaching the inferno.