I am down on my hands and knees, crawling, clawing at the curtains, reaching for the window, eyes closed, mouth closed. The smoke is surrounding me. I cannot see it. I try to open my eyes. They sting. My hand meets the cold, smooth texture of metal. My fingers close around the key. I reach upwards again, reaching for the window ledge. Reaching for the window. I struggle to find the lock. Eventually I find it. I turn the key. I push the window open. I grip the window ledge firmly and lift myself up. I climb out of the window. I fall.