SITTING BY THE FIRE, with one leg crossed over the other, the woman quietly sipped her tea. She didn't make a sound, she didn't move. She only listened, expecting, waiting.

A loud thunder clapped through the air, but she only continued to stare at the fire that was lit before her, its bright flames licking at the wood.

Burning, destroying.

Her eyes flickered to the clock that ticked above the fireplace, and she let her teacup clink back on her small plate.

Her lips curling into a small frown, she leaned back slightly, her back coming in contact with the cushion of her chair.

Expecting, waiting.

Her eyes flickered back to the fire. The flames haven't seemed to dim down at all. Raising the cup to her pink lips again, she downs the rest of the cup.

She rises from her chair, and starts to walk. Away from the warmth of the fire's embrace, and towards the white noise.

Once entering among the kitchen, she spots the kettle on her stove. Pouring herself another cup of tea, she takes it quietly in her hand.

When she's just about to leave, she makes eye contact with the mirror.

She sees no reflection.

She walks away.

Back towards the warmth of the fire, that reaches out to her with open arms. She sits down, placing the tea down with a clink on the table in front of her.

Expecting, waiting.

Her eyes drag away from the glow of orange, and travel up to the painting above it. A bird, with wings, meant for taking off. All dressed in black, with a beady eye staring into her soul.

Snapping her eyes away, she leans over to take the tea, and as she was about to raise it to her lips, a loud chime rang through the house.

Someone was at the door, soaking wet, with their hair plastered to their forehead, shivering in the cold. Setting the cup down, she stood up, striding to the door. All around her, whispers coaxed at her, some screaming in despair while others...

Reaching the door handle, she swung it open, and met the eyes of an orange haired man. He had beautiful, plump lips and broad shoulders. Big, fat tears slid down his cheeks, and he staggered forward, fulling into the woman's arms.

"I let them go..." The orange haired man whispered, his voice near exhaustion. He looked as broken as every man and woman had when they come to her door.

With a practiced light smile grazing her features, she said to the man:

"Welcome, please come inside. It must have taken you a long time to get here, traveler. Call me E."