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Drama Fiction

I wake to the scent of fried rice, the accompanied sizzle intermingling with a cacophony of voices from the radio in our living room. It's a Monday, I hear them say. Maybe the last one.

"You’ve got to be freakin’ joking." Melanie's voice bounces off the walls of our four-story apartment as if to remind us just how little space we have. I pull the pillow further down over either side of my head, forcing the pain of a three-day-old ponytail to amplify through my skull. A heavy sigh works through my chest before I press up from my futon and tear the elastic band from my hair.

"What are they saying today?" The pad of my feet against our linoleum is barely audible over the arguing and the buzz of the generator. Melanie doesn’t even look back at me from her place between the screen and the canvas she is painting. Her shoulders shrug in silent response, “Nothing’s changed…” 

The scrape of metal against wood sounds as I pull a can of beans from the cabinet and clear my throat. “Will we go again tonight?” 

Melanie glances at me quickly, her eyes moving back and forth from my face to the piece in front of her. Her voice is a whisper. “What else is there to do, Jen?” 

October 4th, 2023

It is with great regret that we announce the indefinite shutdown of the United States government. Due to recent emergency messages spread throughout cell phones across our country, we are experiencing a breach of internal systems and a takedown of our economy. Our dollar has depreciated beyond repair and the country continues to fall into disarray. Please reach out to your state legislators for further information. 

The streets of Philadephia echo in a way that makes my skin crawl, the shifting buildings and flicker of street lights the only noise to hold onto. Melanie’s hand is clammy in my own as I pull her down another alley. Her face is wrapped in a scarf my mother made her for Christmas two years ago – even though the heat of summer is still trapped in the cracks of Market Street. We no longer talk about where my mother might be. We never talked about where Melanie’s mother is. 

Martin isn’t nice when we arrive at the bottom of the steps, but he never really is. He forces the big metal door open with a grunt after we mutter the word “redemption”.  Melanie takes the lead, winding down white, tiled hallways covered in the grime of time.  We walk through an open archway into an underground cavern that was created by recent explosions in the area. Plastic chairs sit haphazardly spaced and folks gather just before a stage made of cinderblocks. The hovering dust of destruction hangs heavy in my throat. 

“Jen, right?” One of the men asks me. I nod, unwilling to fall into friendship with anyone other than the girl who holds my hand and my heart. The man fidgets next to me, his knee jiggling with a rhythm only he can hear. 

“Tony, ain’t here yet. Not sure what’s taking him so long. Heard they had news on who done it.” 

I keep to myself, I keep to Melanie, listening for signs of danger, I keep my eyes planted on the exit. It has only been three days since the takedown and 48 hours since a manhunt was issued for whoever started it all.

When Tony arrives, it’s never alone. Men and women of all ages and sizes thread in behind him before dispersing into the cavern. Crowbars, knives, axes. Tony positions himself at the front of the stage and holds up a piece of paper with a descending node scrawled in black ink. 

“This is vut vee know. It vas the only symbol found in relation to our recent predicament. Our hacker has left no trace, ‘cept for this right here.” Tony turns and walks to the wall behind him before lifting a knife from his boot and using it to stick the page to the wall. The clunk of it is swallowed up by murmurs undulating through the crowd. 

My heart sinks as Melanie raises her hand. Tony’s eyes hone in on her and he nods in her direction. A wave of turning heads shifts toward us and it takes everything in me not to bolt for the door. 

“Where was it found? How do we know it’s related to the hacker?” 

“It vould seem as though this individual is confident in their game… This just appeared today.” Tony raises two fingers and curls them toward himself. A lanky boy of about eighteen shuffles up to him with a laptop in hand. He opens it toward the crowd and the symbol glows brightly from every page of the internet. Melanie sits back, quiet. 

“Vee have to consider that no one among us is innocent and so vee vill start with each other.” 

The creeping feeling that started in my toes reaches my diaphragm and I struggle to keep my feet planted. Melanie is ahead of that game – she pushes past a few folks and heads for the exit, her fingers intertwined with mine. 

We break out into the muted sunshine, letting the few rays of warmth hit our faces in this new world so bleak. For a minute, I try to pretend that it’s all normal again. But did I even really want that? 

The job, the bills, the insistent need to show others I am just fine, making it through, getting it done. I am tired – tired of the world we’ve all built for ourselves. I am ready – ready to start over, ready for a chance to make things right, ready to believe that we can live a different way. Expectations are gone and all I can dream about is running away forever with the woman who let me be me. The fear tunneling into my chest is unaware that its new home was built with a trace of hope. 

The apartment is chilled, the generator stilled and ominous, reminding us that eventually, its means of running will wither away. I stand at the counter, gripping the sides as if I can out-squeeze the hand that grips my heart. Melanie joins me, wrapping her slender arms around my waist, letting her hot breath tickle my neck. Each stranglehold loosens and I let out a sigh filled with everything I want to let go of. I try so hard to hold onto the subtle feeling of relief but it slips away from me like paint in water. 

Something clatters from across the room, and my head swivels like a chicken before the slaughter. I walk to the radio, to the easel sitting in front of the window – some unknown force pushing me. Melanie’s painting is face down against the hardwood floor. I lift the canvas, setting it back where it was, and I see the symbol of a descending node shimmering in shiny black paint against a stark white background.

The slamming of drawers echoes from our room and I stand there in stillness. She arrives next to me carrying a duffel bag stuffed with our lives. 

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you…” 

We both stare at the simple marking. Melanie turns to me, putting her hand against my cheek and I lean into it. “Please tell me you understand.” 

The slamming on the door makes us both jump. 

“Ayo, girlies, we saw you slip away. We just here to make sure ya’ll are alright.” 

I turn to the door to tell them off, to tell them we’re fine, to say something, anything to get them to leave, but Melanie’s hand is there against my mouth. Her eyes connect with mine, the swirling hazel like a rainy desert and I lose myself for a second. Her hand falls from my mouth and she picks up the duffel bag at our feet. 

“I know you in there!” Both our heads whip in the direction of the door. 

We scurry to the bedroom like the rats that live in our walls. Melanie hands me a knotted sheet that she’s tied to the bed and the cold metal of my hunting knife slides into my palm. My fingers curl around the hilt and I slide the weapon down into my boot. 

“I want you to understand, I –” It’s my turn to cover her mouth.

She didn’t need to explain, didn’t need to say anything at all. At that moment, I knew I loved that girl more than I ever had before. I pull her into me, letting her head nestle in the crook of my neck. Her arms squeeze at my torso and it takes everything in me to peel myself away from her. 

“This is our chance to start over, my love,” she murmured.

It was true. I knew it to be, even if I have no proof. I didn’t need any. I just need her voice, her touch, the smell of her hair as she turns to the window. She hung there, suspended in time and smiling widely at me before her hazel eyes sank below the sill. And I realized I’d do anything for the girl that changed the world just for us. 

October 06, 2023 19:09

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RBE | Illustration — We made a writing app for you | 2023-02

We made a writing app for you

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