Spring 1868 – In the City of Burning Dreams

I was certain that I dreamed yet I felt the dry heat radiating from the smoldering buildings and I coughed from the bitter smoke. I blinked my eyes, hoping to give them water but the action did little good. 

The man appeared through a wall of oily smoke. His clothing looked as clean and unmarred as if he had just produced it from his wardrobe. His smile did not extend beyond his lips and even there it held no warmth.