Burned. Blackened noses. Fire engine arrived.
Backstory
Mother was the youngest girl in a large family. Never really learned to cook. We knew dinner was ready when fire engine was heard coming down the block. She would put the bacon-greased cast iron skillet on the stove and walk out to get the mail or the paper. Forgotten, it would swirl thick black plumes of smoke throughout the house, making the curtains resemble Halloween drapes and the insides of our noses - black.
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