The Secret to a Long Life part 3

One July night, Henry dreamt that his house was burning and he barely got out in time. After the sirens, the flashing red lights of the police car and fire engine, the whoosh of water on blazing walls and roof, after the stars in the violet night faded and an orange sunrise brought a new, strange day, after all that, Henry still marveled at the vivid nightmare and wondered when four a.m. would roll around, when he always woke, so that he could have toast and coffee. He was hungry and impatient for daybreak.
Jack woke confused. He was up and going before dawn and the orange sun was pouring light against his drawn curtains. Then he realized that the sun rose at the front of the house, not the side. Outside it was windy and crackly and in the distance he heard sirens approaching. With a flash, he realized that there was a fire, a big fire outside of his windows. Henry's house! Henry's house must be on fire. He jumped out of bed and looked outside. Jack was about to have the best morning of his adult life.
He got dressed in a hurry and from the kitchen, watched the blaze licking up the roof, smoke and flames pouring from each window. On a special day like this, he decided to have pancakes and jam for breakfast, a meal that he reserved for holidays. He was humming and whistling, watching his breakfast cook and looking outside at the action. Breakfast was delicious, even if the cakes were a bit burned. He took his coffee to the front porch, where the old creaky rocking chair sat and he settled down to watch the show and gloat.
The firemen had little to do. This house was going to be a full loss. They just kept the flames down a bit and let her burn. Somebody draped a blanket on Henry's shrunken frame and a cup of coffee was brought by a neighbor. He held the coffee and stared at the beauty of the fire, knowing that the dream would end soon.
He stood out in the street, dazed, after the commotion died down. He refused help from the police. A firefighter had gone to talk with Jack, his neighbor, and Jack had assured him that he would make sure that the old man would be looked after. After everybody left and the day's business got under way, Henry still stood in the street, looking lost.
What mostly bothered Jack was that Henry looked like he wasn't all that upset. The loss of his house, all that he owned, minus his garden tools, didn't seem to affect him. Jack decided to talk to Henry, maybe rub it in a little or better, a lot. He strolled over to him, cup in hand.
"Glad you made it out, Henry. Looks like you lost just about everything." The smile on his face was one of genuine pleasure, not merely a friendly gesture. He was enjoying this, better than sitting on the porch. Henry nodded thoughtfully. In his dream, the guy he hated most was making friendly conversation. He wondered what that meant. "What are you going to do, now that you lost everything. You have no family." A double jab, that should get him redfaced.
What the hell, thought Henry, it's a dream! "I'm moving to Paris." He wanted to do that since he was a teenager. Paris, the capital of love and culture. He smiled with anticipation, a small smile, as he was out of practice.
"Paris, Texas? Who do you know there?" Jack discovered a tiny hole in his own armor of smugness.

to be continued.....