Fuel?

. . .

Fuel?

There was another man whose house was quickly disintegrating.  As we were playing cards, we played a lot of cards; he was cutting portions of two by four from the walls, and throwing them into his fireplace as fuel.  Amazing!  I took him by the arm and walked to the door of his house, opened it, pointed at the strand of trees not three feet away and asked why?  He just didn’t care!  I don’t know what ever happened to him.  Hope he didn’t burn himself to death.

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