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.