Water

It's three thirty in the morning when a sound intrudes on my dreams, a
surging, a rumble, a sound long forgotten. Then my conscience kicks in,
brain on full alert. Firewater pumps!
When I stumble out of my room the hallway carpets are already soaked and
water is pouring out from underneath the door to the fire escape. I
gingerly push it open. Water sprays everywhere the sprinkler system is
obviously doing it's job but there is no fire.
Fire has a buzz to it, a sub audible hum, a life all of it's own, that
most of us instantly perceive.
Now other people have woken up and I take the elevator down to the
lobby. Not the wisest thing to do under the circumstance but I don't
want to get wet.
Interior drainage was obviously not foremost on the architects mind when
he designed the building. The water here is ankle deep and rising, the
apartment dwellers at this level are frantic. The one person missing
from all this is Reg, the building manager, attempts to wake him by
banging on his door and ringing him on his telephone prove fruitless.
I assess the situation decide there is no apparent danger and go back to
bed.
What a night.