Trusting No One

All the family photos are gone. I wish I had made copies for others. They would be in their houses, safe, and they would share. But I was on such a budget. Grandmas offered to pay for them, but still. I was too proud. All the furniture is ruined. The lawn is littered with wrappers and cups. Water got the furniture. Spectators who pulled up in cars to watch left their litter. The walls are not quite black, yet much darker than gray. Some are gone, others are Half gone, but in jiggly piggly points at the top as the fire decided to travel. What is left is mostly plastic, a Barbie doll with singed off hair, a coffee container. I search frantically through this soggy boggy water-logged hovel for something I care to keep. Yes, I was lucky no one was home. No, I do not know if the fire was set. Yes, I have insurance. Not enough, but I will keep that to myself. Can we help? How? Who else knows what I am looking for? I do not even know what I am looking for! I would like to have salvaged a few things. My couch was fairly new, but it is destroyed. My aunt said she could send a crew in. I cannot pay them, and insurance takes so long. I do not need a damaged credit rating too. I can barely write a check at the grocery store now. Besides, I have been burned by insurance companies before. Trusting no one, I begin to pick through the debris that was once my home, hoping as I search.