My Apartment Burned Down. My Parents Said, “Not Our Problem.” Then the Fire Investigator Called.

Something was wrong. I could feel it. I just didn’t know how wrong.

The insurance office smelled like stale coffee and bad news. Greg was younger than he’d sounded, maybe thirty, with apologetic eyes behind wire-rimmed glasses. He led me to a small conference room and closed the door.

“Miss Carter, I want to start by saying I’m very sorry about your continue reading …