“Someone is just dead!” said the little girl; for her old grandmother, the only person who had loved her, and who was now no more, had told her, that when a star falls, a soul ascends to God. And that stupid little girl stood in the winter and kept lighting matches to catch glimpses of families that weren’t – could never be – hers and froze to death in those harsh moments of reality between matches, because even though matches can burn, they’re light, not heat.”
