Narrative essay (Rough Draft)

I remember my first fire victim. It was a good fire. It charred out the
whole apartment. After it's over, everyone's overhauling. That means pulling

down the ceiling and walls, to find and put out any hidden fire that's left.

Then the captain of the squad looks over at me. He says, "Give them a hand

with the body." I'm thinking, What the hell is he talking about? What body?

I'm looking around and I don't see anything. He's getting impatient. He says

it again. "Come on! Give them a hand with the body!". I say "Okay. Where's it

at?" He says, "Right over there." So I look on the floor and here's this

mound of charcoal. It wasn't the body. It was the embers and all the burnt

wood and debris. The body was underneath. It turned out she was a woman,

burnt beyond recognition. I'm looking at this thing. It's the first time

I've ever been face-to-face with a body in this state. I don't know what

the hell I'm supposed to do. This guy on the other end say...