Last night I dreamed the fire came back

The crew table is set — eggs, burnt toast, that one chipped mug — but everyone's already gone. I'm standing in the empty mess hall with my gloves on, and through the window the ridge is glowing, not like sunset, like a coal that won't quit. I keep pouring coffee into a cup that never fills, and I can hear the others laughing somewhere outside, but I can't find the door.