This is the digital house that we built.

This is the room in the digital house that we built.

This is the phone in the room in the digital house that we built.

This is the screen of the phone which she read in despair in a room all alone in the digital house that we built.

This is the joke which was no longer funny on the screen of the phone which she read in despair in a room all alone in the digital house that we built.

These are the tears of regret at the joke which was no longer funny on the screen of the phone which she read in despair in a room all alone in the digital house that we built.

This is the mother who wept with the tears of regret at the joke which was no longer funny on the screen of the phone which she read in despair in a room all alone in the digital house that we built.

This is the overdosed girl who was lost to the mother who wept with the tears of regret at the joke which was no longer funny on the screen of the phone which she read in despair in a room all alone in the digital house that we built.

This is the box of the overdosed girl who was lost to the mother who wept with the tears of regret at the joke which was no longer funny on the screen of the phone which she read in despair in a room all alone in the digital house that we built.

This is the hearse that transported the box of the overdosed girl who was lost to the mother who wept with the tears of regret at the joke which was no longer funny on the screen of the phone which she read in despair in a room all alone in the digital house that we built.