I live in a very small college town. The population (around 1,000) more than quadruples when the colleges are in session. The schools themselves are very close knit. Everyone knows everyone. If not by name, at least by face. Even people you don't spend much time with are at least familiar with you. It's, overall, a safe community. It's a place where you don't expect a lot of disasters to happen.

This morning, at about 5:30, the corner of main street caught on fire. Four businesses burned down entirely, one is closed due to extensive smoke damage, and off-campus apartments also burned to the ground. 13 students are displaced from their homes and have lost everything. Every where you go, someone is on their cell phone, having the same conversation.

It's strange and scary all at the same time. You never expect something like that to happen in a place like this. More than that, it feels like everyone in the world knows. Everyone in this small town certainly does, but for the most part, outside of it nothing is different. It feels like the world was supposed to stop turning, but instead, somehow, everyone is still going through their routines. People are going to class, my meeting tonight hasn't been cancelled, things keep moving on. Even when it feels like everything has stopped, we keep going. Maybe it's the routines that keep us sane. Maybe we only keep going on so we don't burn down, too.