It's a terrible thing that I've done

More awake now. Surprising how much a bit of music will help that.

It was before midnight when I found the house . The world was sleeping. It would have been a beautiful old house. Grand, is the word I think that belongs to it. The work that must have gone into the care and upkeep of this house would be tremendous. It had fallen into disrepair now.
It reminded me of home.
There weren't many streetlights, and for all the vaunted paranoia people are supposed to have here, no one saw me. No one raised an alarm.
There was no one to stop me as I lifted the window-pane with the prybar. The house was abandoned, or something like it. Furniture covered with sheets.
There were no alarms when I scattered gasoline and scraps of newspapers through the basement, and up the stairs. No one stopped me from breaking the furniture and filling the fireplace.
There was no cry when I lit the matches and tossed them inside.
I drove away.
I know exactly why I did it. "I wanted to destroy something beautiful I'd never have."
I don't regret burning it.