While walking through downtown I saw a toy factory and a soup kitchen engulfed in flames. The air was thick with the burnt remnants of melted plastic and singed split peas. Standing across the street watching the blaze was an eight-year old boy playing with a headless doll. He appeared to be smiling. Next door to the soup kitchen was a bank built entirely of brick with a massive stone roof that protruded out over the sidewalk. And while the flames spat and they sputtered, the bank appeared unmolested by this towering inferno. I walked on, waiting for the sound of approaching sirens. But the sirens never came.