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the back. He could see that windows were smashed here too, bits of furniture and kitchen utensils scattered across the concrete.
Sarah's face was creased with worry and panic. She stepped towards the broken doorway, her shoes crunching on glass. Mark held her back. He stepped through the door first, Sarah behind him, clutching his arm.
"Ken?" he called. "Ken, its Mark and Sarah."

They ventured further into the flat and quickly began to climb the stairs that led to the living area.
"Dad?" Sarah called.
At the top of the stairs, there was a drawer that had obviously been torn from a dresser. Clothes were strewn about on the landing. Sarah let go of Mark's arm and before he could stop her, she had run into the living room. She came to a stop almost immediately, one hand fluttering to her mouth. Her father was crouched against the far corner behind the empty television stand. He was rocking to and fro, his arms crossed in front of him.
"Dad," Sarah said, her mouth trembling.
She ran over to him and knelt down in front of him. He was clutching a framed photo, she saw. A photo of them both in happier times. Sarah touched his arm and he looked up at her. His eyes were red from crying, his face lined and wretched with regret.
"We haven't much time dad," she said, softly.
For a moment his mouth tightened when he saw Mark standing behind her but then he stood up. Daughter and father gazed at each other for a minute then he grabbed her in a suffocating embrace, his sobs shaking his body.
"I'm so sorry."
Mark lowered his eyes then he stepped to the window and looked out at the sky. People were screaming and running in all directions, trampling on other people in their haste to get away but there was no escape. The ball of fire was close now.
"Sarah," he said.
He felt a hand on his shoulder and turned expecting to see her but it was her father.
"Son..I don't know how to say what I want to and I don't have the time anyway butno matter what my feelings it don't matter now and these are my last words so.I'm sorry son and."
Mark grabbed the man's hand and clasped it. "You don't have to say anything. I know."
The old man nodded. He reached out for his daughter and she stood between the two men, her face held high, looking out of the window.
Mark couldn't look though. He gazed at Sarah instead and watched the reflected fire in her eyes as the rock drew closer.
"I love you," he whispered.
She smiled sadly and her hand tightened on his. Her other hand grasped her fathers arm.
Mark's heart

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