A couple of hours later, my mom shouted to me from downstairs that Mrs. G called to ask if I could go over to watch on her daughter because she had to...go out urgently, so I went over. As I got to her house, I heard Mrs G from her bedroom saying that she would be coming in a sec. Suddenly she appeared, wearing the same red nightie. I realized I had left it lying on her bed along with a white one, exactly the same as the one in her hands. I froze and my heart pounded, but at the same time, I was. She had a cup of coffee and just looked her house over. She called it always ‘the old girl’, and at times, when sadness was on her, she talked to the house. ‘What do you think, Old Girl?’ she said. ’40! Not the end of the world you say, at 125 yourself? Maybe not but it feels like the train is making its way out of the station.’ The house was an old brick Victorian, a style that Clara loved and it was her main treat in life, living there. But even the ‘old girl’ seemed to be down at the heels. More

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