The warmth crept up her spine like a cozy autumn night.
She remembers the crackling fires her father used to brew during those chilly first months.
The fires soon died out and the room begins to change.
In photographs a child slowly turns into a young woman.
The furniture stays the same, slumpy and grey, just like the dog that fades away into the checkered wallpaper.
She sees a woman in black standing near the fire place carefully feeling a vase.
No, at closer look she realizes it is an urn.
Suddenly a bright light blurs her vision and piles of bricks fall out of the air.
The ground is a crumbled spew of stone and strange men begin to carry away the remains.
In place of the fire place grows a layer of drywall, and a new plasma T.V.
A thick coat of paint stings the air, and she watches as familiar faces roam around the room.
She smiles as she holds them and reminds them of the fireplace that their great-grandfather once built, and lets the warmth in her spine take her away.