The landscape was desolate. A dirty swamp surrounded by an empty subdivision of cookie-cutter houses, so close together their future occupants would probably be able to hand a cup of sugar to a neighbor out of the window. Gone was the dense forest with the heavy, lush green canopy of trees where she’d loved to camp and hike with her family as a girl, inhaling the thick scent of pine and sweet grass. She missed the world of her youth.
Minutes later, she drove away at a furious speed, watching the whole abomination burn in her rear-view mirror.
Jennifer Terry 
Oh dear… methinks she did a misdeed!
🙂 Methinks so too! Thanks for reading.
Oh dear is right. I get nostalgic too, but wouldn’t resort to a felony. The story unfold rather well.
Thanks!
This is wonderful! She burned it down.
Thanks for reading!
Whoa, it starts so melancholic, and then: fury! She has a temper.
Yes, I think her anger had been simmering for years. Thanks for reading.
There’s a woman of conviction. Or will be soon probably.
Ha! I think you’re right.
Drastic measures. I like the contrasting moods you’ve built – her grief is followed by action. Something very satisfying there, even though one must deplore the arsonist’s tactics.
Thank you. I’m glad her range of emotions came through.
That’s one way t solve the problem!
Ha! Thanks for reading.