At 7:12 on a Saturday morning in Pasadena, the first crash came from the backyard. A cabinet door, loosened by years of use, slid from a leaning stack and struck the concrete with a hollow bang. Inside the house, Maya Chen froze halfway through her coffee. By sunset, her late aunt’s home needed to be cleared, the driveway was filling with debris, and the narrow street was already waking up around them.
