We pack our backpacks every night, with the notion that we will set out the next morning.
It has been three days since our tearful reunion, and we are still here.
Every morning we hoist our packs onto our back and walk to the grocery store. We sit on the ground by the fruit bins and have a long breakfast, where we chat about the things we remember: small snippets of music, our favorite things, places we remember.
He remembers more than I do. He remembers where he grew up, though he cannot remember his family's face; he remembers his favorite number: 9, he remembers he once had a dog named Vicky.
I remember nothing, except small things I recall when it's shoved in my face, like my favorite fruit (strawberries), or my favorite color (blue), or that I once knew a second language (I can read the letters on an Asian noodle packaging.) Otherwise, my memory is a white, never-ending abyss.
By the time we finish our breakfast, the sun is high in the sky, and he deems it too late to begin our journey. I don't argue. Although I do want to find out if we are truly alone in this world (do I really?), my days are comfortable. We have enough to eat, we have great company, and our lives are stress-free.
But life is never meant to be stress-free, is it?
On the third night, we sit on the porch and gaze at the stars. We found a guitar at the superstore, and through some experimentation, have both figured out a few tunes of our own. We laugh and sing, and when it is time for bed, my heart is aglow.
"Good night, Thomas." I say. He is but a silhouette in the darkness, but his eyes sparkle.
"Good night, my Jill."
I shiver from head to toe. Did he just say my Jill?
All it takes is one little word from him to make me fantasize all night. I wonder if I should say something.
"Thomas..."
That is when the explosion happens.
YOU ARE READING
Empty City
Science FictionA girl awakens in an empty city devoid of people or any semblance of life. She cannot remember her past, or why she is here. Then she meets a boy whom she so badly wants to trust - because there's no one else. But is he who he seems to be? Why is...
