Watching her home of so many years beginning to collapse in on itself, the flames licking around the eaves, the window sashes glowing red hot, the skeleton of it revealed before her, beams and doorways and the staircase at its center, she mourned what had been. They watched in silence until the second floor fell into the first. The roof kissed the foundation, and finally, with a crack like bones breaking and a spray of sparks, all that remained was a pile of flaming rubble. She became aware of Wanda’s hand in hers. “Ready?” Wanda asked. “Ready,” she said.
