Fragile Dreams

           At the very end of a summer that was all too short, the old man I was living with passed away. Even after all the years we spent together, I never knew his name. Later that evening I dug a shallow grave in front of our home and buried him there. At that moment, I was truly alone in the world.

          The next few days were spent scavenging the very house in which I spent almost my entire life with the mysterious man. It pained me to do so; seeing how he was always so kind to me. Taking even the smallest, most insignificant object felt as if I were betraying him. But I had to go and try to find other survivors. I had no idea when it would happen again. The man never told me the exact name, so we just called it, well, "it". Whatever it was, it shook the ground with such intensity that I thought the earth itself would burst open like a watermelon. Apparently, from what little he ever told me, the world was different than what it was before. There were very few people left, there is nothing but rubble and debris as far as the eye can see, and sadness seemed to have engulfed the world and the very souls of everyone some time ago.

       Remembering what he said frightened me. I have never stepped foot outside my house. I've never even breathed in fresh air; the only reason I even know about it is because the man told me. I couldn't stay though. I refused to die all alone in a world I knew nothing about. After a few minutes of looking around, I found a backpack and a canteen half full with water. My heart was slamming against my chest as I approached the front door. There were so many locks on it that you could barely even see the door. Just as I lifted my hand to pull back the first lock, I remembered something the old man told me a few days before he died that confused me. "Don't cry because it's over, smile because it happened." Then, as if by magic, a smile came to my face, as well as a stream of tears.