A fire burns a mailbox standing at the end of a lawn. Dustin Lynch, his head down, stands in front of several homes in flames at night. The mailbox drops off the mount and lands on the lawn. Lynch stands by a car, engulfed in flames.
He walks into the fiery bar. Flames lick the shelves behind the bar, guitar and the dart board. He sits at the counter as the flames dwindle. A fortysomething woman cleans the counter as Lynch drinks. He leaves a tip for her and puts on his jacket. While he walks in the suburbs, he stops and looks at his childhood home.
The twentysomething woman puts a cloth over her mouth. She carries her dog and runs out of her home. Her neighbor gives her a leash and says they can’t stay. She points to the roof her neighbor’s house and says, “no, no, no.” A fireman bumps into her. A paramedic tells her to go to the ambulance. She says she can’t leave her dog. He’s all she has left. She cries out as her garage erupts in flames, burning her car.
She pets her dog as the paramedic checks her vital signs. Covering her mouth, she coughs. The paramedic tells her she has to go the ambulance. She says she can’t leave her dog. The second paramedic says her dog will stay with her.
Dustin Lynch sits in the bar and watches the news. The reporter explains a fire burned two houses in a suburban neighborhood. The fortysomething woman says, “that poor woman.” Lynch smirks as he drinks. It his was ex-girlfriend’s home. The reporter says, “investigators are still looking into the cause of the fire.” Lynch asks for another drink and pats the matches in his pocket. It was time to celebrate.
Director: N/A Year: 2020