A tiny tear in the fabric made them try to forget the life they once lived. It was the finger prints of strangers that coated the inside of the beach house, now covered in dust. Not their own. An empty house: always had been. The red ballroom dress that she used to dance in… when it tore they sold it for a small coin. It had been all that they had left. Secretly they all lived on, outside that house. No longer accompanied by red ball room gowns and fancy houses, but the finger prints are still the same.