It's a somewhat cold night, not too cold, not too stuffy. She sat outside what used to be her house, watching people run around frantically and yelling. The heat from the fire rushed to her cheeks along with a gust of wind, warming her hands up a little. She shifted the Minnie doll in arms, accidentally pressing on the button, causing it to let out a cute little squeak.

Then it all came back to her.

She was sitting outside what used to be her house, watching everything go down in flames, the fire devouring her house and disappearing into the dark night sky like shadows. The people tried to salvage what they could, chairs, jewelry, a broken television. No one cared about the girl that belonged to that house.

After a while when all the flames went up in the sky along with the smoke, they turned their attention back to her. She starred at what used to be her house, only a burnt out pillar left. The people suddenly had their humanity drilled inside them, rushing over to hug the little girl, to comfort her, to make her feel the same, like nothing happened. To lie to her.

She watched how the people changed. From taking those things out of the house, they turned their attention to her. Perhaps she was useful to them as well, like the chair they brought out. Maybe she could be sold to someone for a price, like the broken television. Maybe she'll be kept somewhere, like the jewelry that lost their shine in the night.

Someone coughed, she looked at him. A fireman looked back at her, their eyes locked. He made his way over, the people slowly moved away, making way for him. She stood on her feet, Minnie doll hugged tightly against her chest, being the thing she treasured most. He squated down, placed his warm hand on her cheek, slowly rubbing her cheek with his thumb, like her dad used to do.

"I'm sorry." Were the words he said.