Ten Thousand Little Things

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I've read that there are buildings, offices and skyscrapers and stuff like that, built to withstand devastating natural events. They sway, I think. Because if they were stiff, the wind or the earth would snap them in pieces like a toddler playing with matchsticks. Unfortunately, my life wasn't built like a skyscraping office building. It was built like a tiny, dirty apartment complex, with roaches in the walls and a stove that my mom insisted only lit if you said a Hail Mary three times before trying it.

Like my life, the apartment complex is scattered across the city, soaked and destroyed. From my vantage point atop something that may once have been a wall, I can pick out ten thousand little things of mine that were tossed about. Pieces of books, shards of disks, and splatters of paint cover the ground, alongside walls and bric a brac and people. People who are laying on the ground, between their heartbeats. People who are wandering about, gathering their families and possessions as best they can. People covered in blood, numbly meandering along.

People screaming and crying.

As I listen to them, watch the wind rustling their clothes and the sunlight playing across their hair (or, in the case of Mr. Alacos, scalp), my chest is filled with an awful hollow feeling. I need to get away from here, or I'll lose my damn mind. So I turn my back on the tableau behind me, set my feet to the rays of sun dancing atop the wreckage, and start walking.

I hear new voices.

New, familiar, familial voices.

I pick up the pace, outrunning the sunbeams, searching for my mother and my sister and my Aiden. I can hear them, they must be okay, I can hear them, they must be alive.

They must be.

My old red sneakers pound noiselessly against the pavement, and my silent breaths grow ragged as I search for them. I ask everyone I see--Hello? Have you seen my mother? My sister? My Aiden?---but they don't notice me, absorbed as they are in their own devastation and panic. So I run, for what feels like hours, but is no time at all, until I see her.

My sister is leaning against a still-standing post, her face blank, her whole body shuddering madly. It makes the blue streak in her hair look like a lightning bolt that strikes the ground as she slowly slides down the pole. I make my way around the rubble blocking my way, to comfort them.

My mother is hunched over, sobbing into her hands. Her body trembles as she rocks back and forth, back and forth, alternately howling and muttering, frantically brushing the hair from my face. As her hand trails away, her finger travels over my white hoodie, and comes away a deep red. My sister simply watches, seemingly frozen.

Aiden is holding me, keeping me close, and I want to reach out to him as he mutters my name over and over, nearly in sync with my mom. ¨Zach?¨ they whisper, as if they don't want to wake me up. ¨ZACH!¨, they howl, as though trying to keep me nearby through sheer force of will. Aiden plants a shaky kiss on my forehead, and his lips come away the same color as my mom's finger. His tears fall onto my face, and I reach up to wipe away nothing. My mother pulls me nearer to her, but the embrace holds no warmth.

And my sister just stares, at nothing and everything, as our mother and my Aiden do their best to hold on to the ten thousand little pieces of me.

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⏰ Last updated: Sep 08, 2017 ⏰

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