46. Ted sat in his dimly lit living room, the glow of his laptop casting

Ted sat in his dimly lit living room, the glow of his laptop casting flickering shadows on the walls. His face was etched with a mix of shock and despair as he watched the horrifying footage unfold on the screen. The news showed relentless flames engulfing entire neighborhoods in California, reducing homes to piles of smoldering ash.

“So many trees here in California are getting burnt,” Ted said softly, his voice heavy with disbelief. “And now it’s spreading to people’s homes. Their lives are being destroyed while we sit here helpless.”

The video on the screen cut to a scene of firefighters battling the blaze, their silhouettes barely visible through the thick, suffocating smoke. Water sprayed from hoses, but instead of quelling the flames, it seemed to evaporate instantly, like the fire was feeding off its very essence. Ted shook his head in anguish. “It’s like the water has lost its purpose, like it’s become fuel to the fire instead of stopping it. How is this even possible?”

The footage shifted to families standing on roadsides, clutching what little they could save—some with photo albums, others with pets trembling in their arms. Their faces were streaked with soot and tears. Ted’s heart sank as he saw a young boy staring blankly at the camera, his stuffed animal singed at the edges.

“Can you imagine watching your entire life burn away in front of your eyes?” Ted asked, glancing at his roommate sitting across the table. “These people aren’t just losing their homes. They’re losing memories, heirlooms, everything they’ve worked for. How do you even start over after something like this?”

His roommate nodded silently, his eyes fixed on the screen. The news anchor’s voice carried grim statistics—acres of land lost, homes destroyed, lives displaced. The images of wildlife fleeing, charred landscapes, and exhausted firefighters blurred together, a grim montage of destruction.

Ted sighed, running a hand through his hair. “And the worst part is, this isn’t the first time. Every year it feels like it gets worse. We talk about solutions, about prevention, but here we are again, watching it happen all over. It’s like we’re powerless to stop it.”

He leaned back in his chair, the weight of the tragedy sinking in. The footage ended with a view of the blood-red sky, ash falling like snow. Ted closed his laptop, the silence in the room broken only by the faint hum of the fan. “We need to do better—for them, for the land, for everyone. But right now, all we can do is watch.”