#0054. It's all that survived. The limbs gone. The soft body burned to ash. Porcelain survives. Covered in soot. Dirty and marked and left in the ruins. It floats. It is the remnant of a home, of a life. It watched Death ride in on the smokey whirlwind and rip the breath from lungs, singe the flesh from bones, and leave nothing but it behind. Nobody dares tread on the fragile relic. It witnessed too much.
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