” “How did you hear they were recruiting?” I wonder. “A girl on the street told me. She said I’d be perfect for it.” Despite her jolly tone, Dan’s not smiling at all now. Is she starting to have second thoughts? It wouldn’t surprise me. The structure we are currently approaching is shielded from almost all sunshine, which makes it look haunted. To be honest, I’ve rarely seen such a grim and foreboding place. Inside it’s even worse. There’s no light, artificial or otherwise, so the tunnel we find ourselves pacing down seems to extend on forever into dark nothingness. The air is suddenly old and stale, too, spiked with the twang of cheap disinfectant. I can only imagine what messes they’ve had to clean up here recently. Dan pauses next to an open door and waits for me to catch up. I stand beside her and we gaze into a small office. A man, late thirties or early forties, is sitting behind a huge wooden desk that was clearly designed for a company president. He’s running one hand through. As we drove away I am humming to myself, the words of the popular George Strait song,"Yeah they call me the Fireman". The only other line I could remember at the time had to with, "Goin' 'round town puttin' out old flames". It's a tough job but someone has got to do it. Right?It was 0655, just 5 minutes before I got off shift. I was getting nervous about going back the that house from last night. I didn't know what to expect when I got there. My hands were already beginning to shake and I hadn't even left the station yet. "What am I doing". My mind was telling me to go home but this feeling in the pit of my stomach urged me onward.I haven't been this nervous since I asked Becky Wilson to the Senior Prom. As I drove up to her house I began to breathe hard, my mouth was dry as a popcorn fart. With shaking hands I knocked on her door and waited. I had to knock three times before she answered. I was about ready to leave when the door opened and my eyes beheld this near heart-stopping.
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