There was a house. There were many houses and Tip walked by them all, only occasionally inviting themself in to pocket a few things that weren’t being used by anyone and would benefit them more anyway. But this house… This house stood, like many houses, away from the road. This house was burned and charred, unlike many houses. This house sagged under the weight of its roof, and the roof sagged under the weight of the sky, and all of it would eventually crumble to the dirt to be smoothed over and forgotten, more forgotten, under the harsh sands of their desert. But this house…
Tip could see the flames licking up the side of it, could smell the fragrant wood as the tongues of fire licked and caught on the timbers, wrapping around the wooden beams in a strangling embrace. They watched as it kicked out a window to climb the side of the house, no longer content with remaining cooped inside. They didn’t blame it; the fire was only doing what it knew how to do, what it was meant to do, and it was not at fault for this.
The house slowly burned as Tip stared. They saw it blacken, the wood turning to charcoal in an almost even pattern from side to side and the ground up. As if at a distance, they heard the screams of the people who were trapped inside, listened to them cry for help, then cry for one who was not there, and finally just cry. Their tears would do nothing against the indifferent fire, but Tip supposed there was little else to do in the face of such a fate.
Tip remained motionless as the pyre burned higher into the star-bright sky of their desert. Respect should always be paid to the dead, which was why Tip saluted the houses they stole from before they left. They knew better than to upset those who have gone before, especially out here in their desert; they were not mad, even if they were half-empty. So they stayed, a sole witness to this house and its tragedy, until it burned down to its original state, once again defeated by nature and time.
Then they felt ED-E at their back, soft nudges and low chirps. They held their hand out to the side and ED-E bumped into it, hovering at their side now and rotating slowly between Tip and the house.
“What’s with the house?” Tip startled to hear Veronica to their other side. They thought they were alone watching the house burn, but then ED-E...and Veronica...and it appeared they were not so alone as they thought. They frowned. “I mean, it looks like it might have been a nice house once, all the bones are still there.”
Tip flinched at “bones” and stared resolutely back at house, the broken timbers, the sands already piling up at the windward sides of what was left of the structure. The house would not be too long unreclaimed. They stepped backward and felt protesting muscles that had stood for too long.
“Oh good, are we going to get on the road again? Not that I don’t love house hunting as much as the next girl, but I’m not so much into spending hours looking at the ‘burned and uninhabitable’ market.”
Tip blinked at Veronica, carefully stretching one leg and then the other.
“Takes a long time to burn,” they said finally, and turned back to the road.