Monday 

I took the Underground to the company early morning as I always do. When I left, JoAnna was still taking Domino on his morning walk. It was early rising for me, but I couldn't stand to lay around in my bed pretending that I was resting any longer. I just had to get out of my house.

At the underground station out of the corner of my eye, I see the young face of one of the firemen in my picture. When I turn to get a better look, they vanished like a ghost. I hopped onto the train and I could have sworn that I elbowed another fireman who just as quickly disappeared.

I stood uncomfortably the entire way to work because I was constantly scanning the people around me. I must be going crazy, I thought, they are all dead! There is no reason why I should be seeing them.

At work, I messaged JoAnna apologizing for leaving so early. She, characteristically, doesn't respond. I set my phone down on my desk and stare at the wall reflecting on Sunday's events. I just couldn't grasp that I was the last person to photograph the firemen alive, and it seemed to be haunting me.

When I got home, JoAnna and I took Domino on a walk. I purposely led us in the opposite direction of the burned building out of secret fear that I would see the ghosts of the deceased again. It was a quiet walk; JoAnna talked about the progress in her research deal and I lamented about the null atmosphere of my job.

When the wind changed directions, I could smell the remainders of the smoke from the fire. I cringed because I might also be smelling the crisp and shriveled up bodies of the firemen.

Back home I checked my phone to see I got a notification from the local online news. I opened it and scanned the article for more details regarding yesterday's fire. Then I found it: my picture. My prized picture of the dead men. Something is missing, I thought as I combed the article for my name.

Then it hit me. The news didn't credit me for the picture.