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It was a humid summer night, as the cicadas chirped, I did my best to lull myself to sleep.    With only a handwoven mat as a place to sleep on and an old shabby wall fan to keep me cool despite it making noise instead of actually keeping me cool in this humid summer night, I imagined of a life where I could afford having air condition as I slept through the night.     Despite my current situation I had to make do with what I have, a few years ago I had no money to my name, a place to call home, and a family to enjoy life with.     I used to beg for change and live off scraps that I could scrape up. Fortunately for me while, while I was begging in the streets I was offered a job as a construction worker; I would be paid minimum wage for my labor.    I immediately jumped at the opportunity to earn money and a chance to actually buy food. Afterwards after a few months of saving up and a hint of good luck I was able to find the place I am currently staying at right now, despite it being a raggedy old one-bedroom apartment it was cheap and since I was only making minimum wage it definitely helped that I was able to afford a place and have enough money for at least one or two meals a day. Eventually my continued imagination of a life with air conditioning got the best of me and I succumbed to sleep; dreaming of my ideal life. I woke up as the sunlight touched my face, it managed to reach me from the light gaps of my walls.     I braced myself knowing that I had another strenuous day ahead of me and I had to skip breakfast again today because rent was coming up and I am already several months behind and God forbid I forget to pay this month.  A chill went down my spine as I stepped out the door this feeling of dread seeped in to my body.     As odd as this feeling may seem I brushed it off as my hunger passing me by, seeing as I had to once again skip breakfast so I hop on my bike to begin making my way to work. It seemed extremely odd to me that on my way to the construction site I still felt this ominous feeling, despite each pedal I take on my bike I just could not shake away this sense of dread.     By the time I arrived at the construction site I was breaking out in to cold sweats and it would seem that this sense of dread I had manifested itself in to the sudden urge for me to drop a deuce.  Despite how weird my morning felt I still had to brace myself for a hard day of work ahead.    No matter how off I felt this morning I still had to work, money isn't going to rain from the sky anytime and if I wanted to get myself out of my current predicament I have to give my one hundred percent even if my body doesn't have gas in the tank for a hundred.     Even after I've relieved myself it would seem that I still felt like something was off. It must have been the chicken I ate last night, it probably was already past its date.  Even after I've put on my work boots and my hard hat, even while I was slaving away at work I still could not shake this feeling off.     Once lunch break rolled around I decided to eat a hefty meal of rice and chicken (fresh this time mind you) and I then went on to ask around for whoever had some type of laxatives with them. I just probably need to drop another deuce I say to myself and yet even after I relieved myself, even after I relieved myself, even after lunch break ended, and even when we resumed work up until we called it a day this sense of dread still lingered.  Before hopping on my bike to pedal my way home I stop to look at my sorry excuse of a wallet and checked to see if I could afford dinner.     After counting up whatever was left in my wallet and asking a bit of change from my coworkers I had enough money to pay for dinner. It probably is my luck day I say to myself as begin to happily pedal along to get takeout for dinner.     Something felt off, even though I was happy that I could afford dinner for tonight this eerie feeling creeped me out. By my standards I'm having a better day than usual and yet I felt that something wasn't going right.     As I made my way home this sense of dread doubled and this unsettling feeling that I was being watched followed me with all the way home. If I knew back then I knew now I should've trusted my gut and leaved this town but alas it is but wishful thinking. I should have known that this was the calm before the storm. A storm that destroyed and made me question my life. Before I even got close to where I live I already saw the smoke rising. A fire must've broke out I say to myself, seeing as I lived in the slums pretty much every house was flammable and that made it easy for fires to spread. With this I speed up hoping to God that my house wasn't caught in the fire. As I got closer I heard the frantic screams of people running to salvage whatever they could from their homers.    I heard the voices of firemen trying to put out the flames but when I arrived the scene left me stunned as a single "What the f**k?" escapes my mouth as what I witnessed could not be farther from what I expected. In what could have been the weirdest house fire I have ever witnessed in my life amongst the rows of houses here in the slums my one bedroom apartment was the only one engulfed in flames.     I couldn't  comprehend the scene right before me. My mind went blank as I saw what has now become the place I called home burn down before my very eyes, I couldn't formulate my thoughts, the shouts of the firemen trying to extinguish the fire had my thoughts in disarray. At that moment I felt hopeless, after years of living in the streets never knowing when and where my next meal was going to be I finally I found a place I could call home.     As scuffed as my living situation was I came to appreciate it and I mourned the memories I have of my place as I know that once the fire is extinguished all is left would be rubble. I mourn the fact that the little money I had put away as savings has probably gone up in flames, months and months of sacrificing meals in order to save up gone in an instant. I probably won't be able to use my noisy electric fan and wake up to sunlight hitting my face from the cracks in the walls and all the other quirks that I have become part of my daily routine. I couldn't tell how much time has passed but after what felt like an eternity of agony of watching flames eat away my one bedroom apartment  the fire was finally extinguished. As I stared blankly at the pavement a couple of my neighbors came to console me and all I could ever muster was a thank you. I was already mentally and physically tired, and I had no idea where to find a place to rest. I was tiptoeing my breaking point.   Days have passed after the incident and yet still it did not feel real to me, I was wandering around aimlessly whenever I was not working, looking for a new place that I could afford.     Often I would end up falling asleep near the construction site. After a few more days pass by I managed to find another apartment, it was a one bedroom apartment similar to the last but it cost only a tiny bit more.     After a week of living in the new apartment I would say that I have finally settled in. My daily routine was quite still quite similar as I lull myself to sleep with dreams of the ideal life I want to reach. A day passes by and once again I wake to find myself with this incredible sense of dread looming over me, but once again I shrug it off and continue to go to work.     Much like the very first instance, this eerie feeling of dread never left me and I spent the entire day feeling this way.    As I made my way home, once again the feelings of dread were magnified each time I grew closer to my home. I was so out of it that I was only able to notice what was happening once I was close to home.  Like some sick f*****g nightmare the same image greeted me as I arrived home: my one bedroom apartment is once again engulfed in flames as firemen desperately try to extinguish the fire.     Unlike my first experience I did not feel helpless nor did I mourn the loss of my home. I was only here for a couple of weeks and I did not grow attached to it.    Despite this all I could feel was rage, what the f**k was happening? Why me? I barely have enough money to get by and now for the second time I have to witness my one bedroom apartment go up in flames knowing that the money I spent on personal belonging would probably be too far burnt to be salvaged.     I felt enraged at the fact that I have to start over again and build myself back up. As I watch the smoke rise from the flames I promise myself that the next time I get an apartment,    This will absolutely never happen again!