And here's mine: (Keep in mind it's my raw, unedited NaNo work.) :)
Colby got out of his car and shut the door, leaning against it for a moment. He was exhausted. They’d been on a domestic violence call that had turned into a hostage situation that hadn’t ended well. All Colby wanted to do was crawl in his bed, but he wasn’t sure he wanted to close his eyes. The image of the wife dead in her living room would live with him for a long time.
He pushed off and started up the walk to his house. He’d never dreamed he’d still be living in his childhood home, but when his parents had died, they’d left it to him and it provided an inner security for him that he’d never been able to recreate anywhere else. He took the steps up to the front porch two at a time, but stopped. Smoke. He could smell smoke.
The tiredness in his body melted away as his heart began to beat faster. Vaulting over the small wall that surrounded the porch, he went around back. The smell got stronger the faster he moved and he realized it was coming from the old Carney house next door.
Colby crossed the lawn and pulled open the screen door. The Carney family had moved out of the home years ago and several different renters had been there since then. With Colby’s crazy work hours, though, he had no idea who lived there now. He banged on the front door. “Hello? Is anyone home?”
There was no answer.
The smell of smoke was stronger now and Colby circled the house. He hopped the fence and saw the flames from the side window. The kitchen was on fire. Fishing his cell phone from his pants pocket, he quickly dialed 911. Assuring himself that emergency personnel were on the way, he crept closer, peering in the windows. The smoke was thick and flames were licking the oak kitchen cupboards that old man Carney had spent hours refinishing himself. The fire was greedy and was making its way toward the ceiling.
Okay, I showed you mine, now let's see yours.
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