One of my favorite pieces from North York writer's group: the kitchen window was open writing exercise

The kitchen window was open. Nothing more could break my moment of pondering and I was happy about this until the traffic jam on the corner of my avenue began. What an unusual sight it was as that very morning a crowd of neighbors came out in their p.js and watched the gathering of cars as the flaming truck filled with gasoline made a quick turn on Centre Avenue and crashed into a nearby tree. No one knew why he crashed, no one knew why he decided to make that turn. It smelled like burning paper as the traffic jam and confusion began. I saw a man run out of the flaming truck with a harp. It was a miracle he was alive and not even hurt. We watched in awe as he escaped and crowds began to gather. The media, the mayor everyone began to make their way to Centre Avenue. Before they could show up one important thing occurred making the whole moment in time but a dream. The man with the harp disappeared.