[ WP ] The sound of sirens is heard as you watch an ambulance make it 's way down your road . You look to see where it stops as you realise it finishes it 's journey outside your door . A hooded figure in black makes his way to the door . You clutch at your chest as you feel your heart struggle ...

I opened the door, the orange bottle of medicine in my other hand. 
 
 The paramedic had a black coat wrapped around him—understandable, as it was cold. Why he had stopped here, at my house, I had no idea. 
 
 `` What street is this?'' he asked. 
 
 `` De Lancie,'' I replied. As I spoke I felt my heart flutter. 
 
 `` Where is 658 Loomis?'' 
 
 Loomis Street. Even for the offshoots in this backwater village, planted right in the middle of a forest, it was a pain to navigate—worse yet, they were going to Bill Hickerson's place, which was a real trick to find even if you knew where it was. I pointed. `` Second left, where the shoes are hanging from the tree.'' I was n't finished, but the paramedic had uttered a quick `` Thanks'' and jogged back to the waiting ambulance. `` There's only one lane!'' I yelled after him. `` **It's the house with all the'NO TRESPASSING' signs in front! **'' 
 
 I was n't sure if he heard me or not, but they were already gone. I could only hope that I had been clear enough—and that the ambulance was n't so wide it would get itself wedged between two trees on either side of the road and become stuck. 
 
 I remembered the medicine in my hand. I twisted the cap open and downed a couple of pills. I suppose my heart condition could be worse. Instead of sitting at home, enjoying a cup of coffee while my dog sits at my feet, I might've been strapped to a hospital bed or dead right now, but I hate taking these pills. I hope Bill ends up better than me.
