Its warm and cozy near the fireplace. The softness of the black leather sofa adds comfort to the warmth. Sally's crouched up on the floor in front of the fire, the orange red glow of the flames reflected in her drowsy eyes, heavy and sore from her ordeal. Her eyes seemed fixed on the red bricks beneath the ashes.
"Do all houses have stoves like this one?" Sally asks in a low lazy voice.
What kind of a life has Sally lived, in the small shelter at the mill that poses for a home. How can anybody stand the cold and dark nights? I've got to do something. I can't not just do nothing!
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