Guiding Eyes for the Blind Dog Training School
THERE WAS THE SMELL of smoke and Mrs. Garcia sitting on the sidewalk across the street and ambulances and fire trucks parked everywhere with their lights still flashing and rescue workers milling about, some of them looking like they were still trying to rescue people, others standing around, talking into walkie-talkies, pointing fingers. I don’t know if you can say Mrs. Garcia was in shock or not. She was pulling on the sleeves of her pink sweatshirt and twisting her feet into the pavement. My wife said she saw her spitting, like she had accidentally swallowed something she wasn’t supposed to, like maybe she was trying to spit out the fire somehow. I didn’t see the spitting, but maybe that’s what it means to be in shock. Maybe that’s part of it.