The old house had to be up to code in less than a week. The wiring was fried, and the walls were crumbling. Demolition seemed to be the only answer but the irrational woman that had hired him insisted that it had to be fixed. It seemed she had a strange attachment to this pile of rotting lumber.
The week passed and the house was no where near ready. She came in slamming doors leaving piles of rubble in her wake as the fragile walls gave way. Cracks in the foundation widened as she continued the tirade until the ceiling came down on her. In the mist of dust and debris someone heard a fading whimper as she expired with the house she loved so.
Why is she so insistent that the house be fixed instead of simply demolishing it and starting over? Is it fitting that her end came with the end of the house?