IMOGEN'S POV
I found my father sitting on the curb across the street, his shoulders slumped, eyes vacant. The smell of smoke clung to my clothes as I sank down beside him. The air was thick with the remnants of the fire, and the acrid scent burned my throat.
"How are you?" My voice came out rough and scratchy.
Dad turned slowly, his face streaked with soot. His eyes were distant. "I'm fine," he said, the words hollow. "Nobody meant for this to happen. It just... did." He looked back at the smoldering ruins of the clinic. "At least no one died. The women from the maternity wing promised not to press charges." A faint, almost ghostly smile tugged at his lips. "We have to focus on the positives."
