The fire flickered and engulfed the trees. Ash showered down on her broken porch that was blackened by the flames and the smoke. Her house was nothing more than a pile of ashes. The heat beamed on her small body that oddly resembled a small and frail doll. She was smeared across the ground wearing a dress that was once white.
This was it.
Her leg was trapped under a burning piece of wood. Her eyes teared and half of her ear was missing. She dropped her handkerchief. A handkerchief with purple hyacinths embedded in it. The jasmine has withered.
The tree fell down.
This is it.
The lily has bloomed.
