Eden

Seven

"Oh wow," I say, looking at the city, still awed by what I'm seeing. I'm not sure what else to say except that. "Just, wow."

The girl standing beside me nods slowly.

I stand there and think. That city looks strange. It looks impossible, which almost makes me think it is. It makes me wonder if this whole place I'm in is possible, and whether I'm really here at all. But even as I'm thinking that, I can feel dust thickly soft under my feet, and sunshine warm on my bare arms, and feel a slight breeze which is catching at my hair, and pulling at the odd shift-dress I'm wearing, too. And all of that feels real.

I don't feel like I'm dead. That's the thing. I mean, I don't really know what dead feels like, but this seems far too real for me to be dead. And oddly, it also feels too real to be a dream.

I'm not sure what to make of it.

I stand there, wondering, and staring at the city, and I start thinking that we really ought to just go over there, and look around. Partly, I suppose, because being around other people seems slightly safer than being up here on our own. And partly because I'm just curious, and want to explore.

I'm feeling fairly calm about all of this. Surprisingly calm, actually. I suppose because I'm used to being on my own and coping with what happens, since I always have been before. I think that's why. I think being a bit lonely in life is actually helping me now, in that I'm not waiting for someone to help me, or to tell me what to do. I'm more just waiting to see what happens next. I'm not reacting especially badly to all of this, anyway. Not like I might have reacted, with fear and panic, and I'm quite grateful for that.

I decide I want to move. I want to look around. And I decide I'll take the girl beside me along too, if she wants to come.

"So what now?" I say. I'm meaning that as an invitation, or a conversation-starter, or a hint for her to ask me to go with her. One of those, anyway. I'm not sure which.

She seems to get it, though. She looks at the city. "Maybe we need to go over there," she says.

I nod, willing to do that with her.

"Perhaps we need to team up, too," she says, thoughtfully. "Since we don't know anyone else."

"All right," I say.

"You want to?" she says.

"If you do," I say.

"I'm Lexi," she says.

"Ashlin."

"Hi."

"Hey."

We look at each other for a moment.

"I'd wrap your wrists up," Lexi says. "They look like they might catch on things."

I nod, because I'd wondered about that too. Then I wonder what with.

"Tear your dress," Lexi says. She touches the hem of hers, and I see the edge is ragged. She must have torn it while she was still inside the building behind us, before she was pushed outside. I can't see what part of herself she has bandaged up, and I almost just ask, but right before I do I suddenly wonder if maybe that's a bit rude. I think it might be, actually. I'm not sure, but in heaven or wherever we are, asking about people's injuries is really the same thing as asking how they got injured, which is pretty much the same as asking how they died.

That seems like it could be a touchy subject for some people. Maybe not. Maybe me worrying doesn't even make sense, but I think about it for a moment, and decide it might be better to be a bit careful since I've only just met Lexi, and decide not to ask after all.