My house. A place I go to everyday. It represents me as a kind, average, doesn’t stand out in the crowd, but still fits in kinda house. It’s like any other house you would see.And deeper into my house, my room, is where I can call it my own and decorate it and make it… me. My room is quite meager, with an extravagant bed that fillsmost of the space. A dusty, delicate desk that stands tall by the wall, and my style of clothing, sluggishly thrown in my dresser. And if all of this was burning to the cold ground, I would take my most precious items. My peppy pets,(of course), they deserve to live too, my pretty purse that holds my money and cute wallet, my phone, floppy dog slippers, and my baby box. All these memories I wouldn’t want to die with my house

Emily