August 18, 1995
Tuesday
8:00 a.m.
In the morning, soaked to the bone, I lay on the dry couch, staring at the digital clock on the nightstand.
At 8:00, Yana called: there’d been a fire at Proma, the fire was contained, I needed to come in, no other information available.
Not a dream.
The clock showed the date: 08-18-98.
