I knew that street in fragments: curtains I passed on walks, a barking dog, a blue recycling bin that always tipped in high winds.

I had never counted it as fourteen households who might need to leave together.

Reyes unfolded a map on a vehicle hood.

The firefighters kept bringing her information, and she marked it as they spoke.

“My husband reported a smell,” I said.

She looked up.

“How recently?”

“Before we went to Portugal.