Yes
“How was it?” she asked once he was completely inside.
“I…uh…” he stammered, wide-eyed.
“Clark?” she asked, concerned for him, stopping short of the hug she’d intended on giving him.
It didn’t take much to see that the rescue had deeply affected him in some way. His features were drawn tight. He’d gone pale. His eyes were wide and staring. His expression was haunted, like a man who’d seen a ghost.
“Honey?” she asked, more forcefully this time, putting her hands on his shoulders. “What’s wrong? What happened?”
“A fire,” he said, his voice sounding far away, his eyes looking straight ahead, unblinking. “A grease fire,” he elaborated after a couple of seconds. “In a kitchen up at one of the campsites north of the city. You know the ones…they have all the little cabins and one big mess hall. I just…I can’t unsee it, no matter how hard I try.”
