[The sight out the windows (well, the ones you can see through, or the broken ones that don't have trees going through them) draws Maria out, blanket wrapped around her shoulders. Her face is pinched in worry, confusion.
But these are controlled fires. (As much as fires get controlled.) Deliberate and in barrels, trash cans. Someone did this on purpose?
She's a little transfixed by it when she approaches one, watching the way it billows out and up, the sparks flitting into the sky. Her expression relaxes some, leaning into the warmth.]
evening
But these are controlled fires. (As much as fires get controlled.) Deliberate and in barrels, trash cans. Someone did this on purpose?
She's a little transfixed by it when she approaches one, watching the way it billows out and up, the sparks flitting into the sky. Her expression relaxes some, leaning into the warmth.]
That smell...oh...it's kind of nice...