It was a camping stove, propane. It looked weird, on the counter next to the electric refrigerator. That was her brother, mixing whatever was practica... with no regard for esthetics. A cast iron wood burning stove gave the cabin what heat it had, a small gas generator giving her electricity for the lights and refrigerator. Water came from a well, the pump outside.All the luxuries of home.Opening the refrigerator, she pulled out the jug of water, filling a large cup. Still a lot left. That was. Heat hits me in the face full force from the stove. She's sitting on her pedestal just as she was when I stepped out like nothing even happened, other than her breathing a little harder. “I'm sorry I took so long,” I tell her. “That's okay. I like looking at all your sculptures and tools,” she says so innocently. “Would you like me to crack a window? It's getting really hot in here. I have no way to turn the stove down.” “That would be nice. I could use some air,” a look of relief crosses her. More

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