House on Fire

Harold watched, horrified, as his house went up in flames. Stashed inside his mattress were his life-savings. “I’m going in!” “Are you crazy?” a neighbour yelled. But Harold ran in anyway. The house was full of smoke; he couldn’t breathe. Still, he staggered towards his room, unwavering. Harold never returned. In response to the “Fickle Finger of Fate” prompt. Inspired by the phrase “full of smoke” which I randomly pointed at in a book.