The house, which had opened its doors to the sands from the beach on the edge of time, had been consumed. The house had no owner, no architect, and no beginning. But it did have an end. And this was it.
The sand had not wanted to go into the house, had not wanted this fine place’s end. But it could never refuse an open door. When the sand realized that a threshold had been opened, which took some time since sand doesn't notice things quickly, it slothfully moved to fill in the empty spaces of home and made itself comfortable.
The sea, at the end of time, shimmered and twirled in the moonlight of infinity. The house’s demise went as unnoticed as its life.
Bob was shocked. He couldn’t believe he had forgotten to close the goddamn screen door. This place wasn’t even his cottage. How the hell was he going to explain this?