Firebreak

On this morning, no different from any other, a man climbed wearily out of bed as the gray predawn sky was just beginning to lighten behind the bedroom curtains.  The morning ritual of shaving and dressing was completed with a mechanical efficiency born of constant practice; viewed through the filmy haze that had marked the treetops across the river for some time, the nascent sunrise proclaiming another day was regarded with the same enthusiasm as the baseball scores in the paper over breakfast.  Shrugging off the last vestiges of the fuzziness of sleep and slipping out the door, the man could see the long, strange shadows typical of that hour stretching out before him under a clear dawn sky, the morning star fading on the horizon.  He backed out of his garage and turned onto the road for the long commute north into the city.  As the muted light of the morning sun streamed through his passenger window, he watched idly as the the scene to his left turned from rural landscape to suburban development and finally to urban sprawl, his view unbroken across the highway lanes devoid of oncoming traffic.  Shaking his head ruefully at the sight of those open lanes leading back the way he came, he picked his way through the morning rush of traffic to find his way to his office building.

Nine clockwork hours later, the man found himself in a viscous stream flowing south, surrounded by the same consultants and managers and executives that shared the trip with him on every day.  He found a satisfaction in watching the view from his right window revert slowly to undeveloped landscape as he made his habitual escape.  As he left behind the rows of cookie-cutter houses and the company of his fellow workers, the evening sun hung low enough that the crystal sky softened its radiance to a warm, inviting glow.  The orb finally slipped behind the horizon, taking with it the last lingering worries of the workday; the road wound on beneath the twilight sky, the deep blue-purple overhead streaked with color from a glow on both sides of the road.  On this evening, no different than any other, an unsettling feeling crept into the void left by the distractions of the day.

As the road swung into the clear area along the riverbank for the final leg of the drive, his gaze was inexorably drawn to his left.  Across the river, his view unimpeded by the morning light of his earlier trip, he watched the fire rage across the gently rolling hills, the spectrum of red and yellow playing against the pall of smoke that persisted above the flames.  Remembering the front page story he had so perfunctorily passed over, he considered the reports that the long-burning blaze was firmly under control.  It was assured that the fire departments had prevented the fire from progressing further for some time now, that the river provided a natural firebreak for containment of the conflagration and that the amount of resources being poured into the area would soon allow them to extinguish it altogether.  As always, bolstered by the knowledge that the authorities had everything well in hand, he forced his eyes back to the road.  Like every other night that he had seen the flames, the man found himself wondering if one of the leaping sparks that danced in the wind might find a fertile home across the water.