The ending of this short story was so sad to me… I really wanted the house to survive so this is how I would rewrite it:
Five o’clock. The baths filled with warm water, for the children needed to take baths. “Bathtime! Bathtime!” The house sung awaiting the squeals of the young children it once knew.
Six, seven, eight o’clock. The uneaten dinner sunk down into the disposal system and dirty dishes whirled into cleanliness. The house was clean, beds were warm, it had fulfilled its daily duties.
Nine o’clock. Blinds closed, shutting out the remains of the other houses destroyed and shadows of what once was. Before the war, this street was filled with laughing, playing children and families who took great pride in their community and their homes.
As the night drew to an end, the house accepted its lonely fate of another day, only accompanied by the stray dogs it had taken in.
A new day of duties was just around the corner, but for now it was time for rest.