Rain drummed on red boots. Lora marched up the wet street toward the brick house.
The door groaned open. Paint and warm dust spilled out into the hall.
An elderly woman held out her hand. They walked past dried flowers into a room full of painted butterflies.
One wing fluttered and tapped Lora's cheek. Her eyes widened in surprise.
The lady pointed to a broken wing on the floor. 'Big piece on me,' Lora said.
They pressed the pieces together. The wing held fast.
The lady laughed. The sound made every butterfly on the walls tremble and shake.
Outside, they taped the butterflies along the fence. A cat watched from the bench.
Wings caught the gray light. The whole street saw them shine.
Lora looked back at the brick house. It felt less lonely now.