The flame remained lit inside the box. Located on the roof of the house, a recess allowed oxygen to keep alive the fire, for all we know that there is no combustion without oxygen as possible. No life.
She rose every morning before leaving school to check that everything was like the day before. The continuity of the flash was visible just open the door to the roof, because although small, the primal force of fire was unimaginable.
But one night a typhoon hit the coast, destroying everything in its path was. The girl spent the night in the basement with his parents. When calm returned to the city, hurried up the stairs, rushing like a runaway horse to the roof.
When he arrived, the remains of the urn were scattered on the floor, mixed with cardboard, ceiling tiles, chewing gum wrappers, stardust, aerials, books. The fire was gone and with it the living memory of their ancestors.
Her eyes closed and never reopened.
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