I was 80 miles from this one.

When the plaster from the ceiling starts to fall, and the room is filled with dust, your first instinct is to hold your breath. About 30 seconds, you give up that thought. Air with dust is better than no air at all. Once the dust completely covered up the air paths, you feel better, because now you don't care if the air is dusty.

You run for the door, struggles to open it. You walk barefoot over the hallway, now covered with debris, plasters and glass shards from the big double pane window that had just imploded. You flew downstairs into the yard.

The earth is still shaking. Green lights flashed in the distant horizon. You now remembered to catch a breath and discovered that the dust had caked in the inside of your mouth. Your feet were miraculously uncut.

You feel something warm running down the back of your neck. You knew its blood. You reached your hand to feel it. It was only a superficial bruise...