March 5 — I had read about the house explosions, the fires, and the poor girl who died, but all of that was just the news of the day. I chided my brother for texting me that my neighborhood was on the news, something about gas leaks. “That’s not us,” I told him. “That was across the way a bit.” Even when the fire department knocked on the door to inform my wife our gas would be cut off in a few hours for at least three weeks, I just shrugged. We were in the impacted zone, not the evacuation zone, after all.

— D Magazine