Every week something changed to the house which really was a museum piece of the 70s. Windows appeared in the roof, a new garage, front door constructed, the interior unrecognisable.
Last night I dreamt I saw the old woman's spirit. She drifted back to her "home" after a daily walk but the whole place was unfamiliar.
"I don't live here. I've been erased," she said softly to herself.