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| Borgatti |
The light coming from the fragile paper lamp didn't matter anymore.
As she stood, waiting, the crowd gathered to watch, whispering words.
She couldn't hear them but she knew they spoke.
Then, unexpectedly, it was decided.
“Burn everything.”
And the torches were lit when she wasn't looking, the blinding light killing a soft glow coming from the frail paper lamp.
The words were shushed. The crowd was silent.
“Let it commence.”
In a matter of an hour, everything was gone, the ashes thrown about randomly.
She didn't mind.
She thought it had been a fitting end to a sad story.
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