Sometimes we can't do much to make things better, rather like emptying the ocean with a teaspoon. But, even a small candle gives light. -- Anon Guest
You'd think it was impossible to be cold when you're watching your entire life go up in flames. But Sandra was. She'd woken up with someone dragging her out of the little wooden cottage that she had spent her life savings on, and kept her life mementoes in. Everything she owned. Everything she'd made.
Someone wrapped her up in a blanket. It was handmade. Quilt. Made out of ten billion tiny diamonds in a pattern that could either be a stack of cubes or a set of falling cubes, depending on which way the eye wanted to see it. Sandra saw starbursts in it. There was a cup of hot broth.
"Vegetable," said the voice outside of her ability to focus. "Just in case you have a food regime."