He emerged from the rubble gasping for breath. The cold air pierced his lungs. He struggled to get up, white dust clouded around him as he pushed the heavy planks aside. His lungs once again filled up with the dust and a coughing fit overtook him, his remaining strength gone. When the dust settled and his breath was steady, he shifted where he was pinned. His house. The house that he had just come back to after all those years, was gone. Memories that had been pushed aside for so long lay under the rubble. He had hoped that seeing that green couch or the yellowing refrigerator would loosen the memories in his mind, but it was too late.

He tried again to shift his legs, and with a crash around him they were free from the forest green planks. Slowly, he got to his knees, careful not to step on anything that might crumple beneath him. Standing, he surveyed the damage. The purple and pink sunset with palm tree skyline mocked him. It had been seventeen years since he left California and now that he was back, he wished he could hop on a plane and go back to his apartment in Boston. But the time for that was gone, he now had to face the fact he was in this for the long haul.

Sirens erupted in the distance and cries of help could be heard. Gazing down the street he saw that many houses were effected and needed help, but none of that mattered. None of them held the memories that he needed.