Board Thread:Fun and Games/@comment-34369352-20190905231704/@comment-30319843-20190925194959

At the time, I was a first year medical student baffled with how short youth was, how there was not much time left until I had to enter a social life. It seemed there was not much you could do about it, but the nevertheless, I went on slowly.

I was awakened at 1:30 a.m. in the night by a friend of mine. He was a PI, and for some reason he always sought my companionship in many cases. Perhaps it was because we had been besties since childhood, but whatever.

He told me in a matter-of-fact manner that a fire had broken out in the city.

I jumped at the news and anxiously glanced around, though only it was my house in the residential area about three or four kilometers away from the city, meaning that I was safe and sound. But I was still baffled as to how such an advanced city had fallen prey to man's boon and bane. The situation, in short, had piqued my interest, and I got ready to drive to the city.

The streets were empty then. Yet the surroundings were illuminated by the lights in the frontyards of the house, which gave me some relief. Still, I shivered when I passed by that weird house that was huge and relatively isolated from the rest of the houses. The incident that had taken place there was just... horrifying.

I soon reached the outskirts of the city through a long road flanked by woods on either side. There seemed to be some people about. Some looking at the high and low burnt buildings and debris that had fallen down, some shedding a lot of tears, tears of pain and agony. I then suddenly recalled why I wanted to become a doctor - to not let those in pain suffer any more.

Er, just get to the damn "office".

I finally arrived at a building, an apartment complex, not so high or low, large or small, and parked my car on the side of the road next to the footpath. Then, after locking my car, I went upstairs, to the first floor, and knocked on a door in a corner of the hall.

After a while, I heard a voice behind the door. It was cracked and heavy. "Answer the security question to proceed: whoooo let the dogs out?"

I rolled my eyes. "Who? Who? Who? Who?" I replied, in a singing tone.

The door opened without any further delay, and my friend, George, was standing before me. The detective. The Sherlock Holmes, the Hercule Poirot, as I joked.

"Well, hello, Hash alias Micheal, how are you doing?" he said, in his normal youthful voice.

"Undoubtedly not well," I said, "Especially after being awaken in the night and presented with a terrible word of passage."

But unlike the other times, this time he didn't laugh. He had a great sense of humor, and was good making funny, yet meaningful jokes (that is, only sometimes). He just smiled, and said what I had in my mind:

"Don't worry, I didn't call you for nothing. There's something critical we must consider."