Our Finest Moment ✔️

1

LIANA

I'm going to die.

I can feel it in my bones that my end is near. I've already been living on borrowed time. The streets are hard enough as they are, but now that winter is knocking on the door, it's gonna get even harder to survive.

I wrap my mom's knitted sweater around myself as I stare up at the clear night sky. The deep, dark blue up there has always been my favorite color—it brings me so much comfort and joy to look up and see it, behind all the glittering stars. Even as I contemplate where I'm supposed to spend the night.

It's too cold to stay outside, so I have to try to find shelter of some kind. It's not hard to pack up my belongings; it's a worn-out duffel bag with some clothes, and a plastic bag with half a sandwich some kid gave me in the park earlier.

"Here, you look so hungry," he'd said.

I tried to refuse, but his mother insisted, and then they were off. I'm not even sure if they heard my thanks.
Falling asleep with food in my belly is the best feeling, and I'm currently chasing it, as I stroll down the street, under the lights in the big city.

I've been everywhere by now; sleeping by the river banks, having breakfast on the roof.. When I put it that way, it sounds good. Luxurious, even. But the truth is cold and lifeless.

Just like me, most of the time.

Blowing into my hands, I walk and walk and walk, hoping so dearly I can find a place with a roof, and maybe a tarp, or an old blanket to huddle under. The part of the city I'm in now houses more damned people than just me, which makes my stomach turn over. I see people huddled together behind stairs, hiding from the wind, warming each other. Some sends me careful, knowing smiles, others seem more hostile, like I'm going to ruin their spot.

If it's taken, and there's no more room, I walk away. There's no need to add to the misery of everyone else just because I can't fit.

Eventually, I reach a set of buildings that look so abandoned and worn down that no one's going to come inside and look for anyone sleeping in there. I wouldn't put it past my fellow city-people that someone's already found this place and are getting warm under a blanket or a discarded duvet, either.

It looks like it was some sort of apartment complex, but time and weather, and probably neglect, has made the floors give in on the higher levels. Pipes stick out above me as I stretch to climb over a fallen piece of wood and concrete, keeping my eyes open for the best spot to live. If it's good enough, I could stay for more than one night.

In the corner, I spot a piece of the ceiling that's fallen down over a sofa, and I make my way to it, delighted to see the spot's empty. I set my bag down on the red, dusty fabric, and then I turn around and look at the faded blue paint on the walls. This looks like it was once a family home, picture frames still hanging here and there. If only I'd had one of those growing up, maybe I wouldn't have been stuck looking for shelter every day. A family, I mean.

Upon further inspection, I can see that the pictures are either completely gone, or look like stock photos. Which is less fun, but it feels better that no one just had to vacate due to the ceiling falling down—as far as I know.

The rest of the apartment I found is pretty small, but cozy, and it feels like it might've been homey once upon a time. So I'm happy with my choice for the night, or the week, if I'm lucky, and I go back to my bag on the couch under the fallen roof, sit down and cross my legs, as I find the sandwich the boy gave me. Surprisingly, the bread isn't stale yet. It's a bit soft, but absolutely delicious still. The filling is ham and cheese; I also detect some butter in there, and savor every last bite until it's gone.