Beneath the Broken City

Beneath the Broken City

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Up and down the alleyway ran two bright ribbons of grass, seeming out of place in the otherwise very gray city. Short houses lined down the lane, each with less grass than that of even the two strands in the vacant way. And though the city wasn't properly addressed with a formal name, it was named quite fittingly by it's people and the world around it. As everyone, everything, and every hope and every dream were broken, completely shattered, it was dubbed just that. The Broken City.
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The city streets glimmered under rain-soaked lights, reflections rippling with each passing car. I walked alone, the hum of the night quieter than usual. Loss clung to me, subtle and persistent, carried in the silent moments no one saw. I thought of the friends I had lost, the trust that had been broken, the absence of those I needed most. Yet even in the darkness, warmth appeared-fragile, unexpected-a smile, a steady presence, a hand that didn't let go. Tonight, I didn't know what awaited me. I only knew that somewhere ahead, someone was walking their own path through fear and pain. And perhaps, just perhaps, our paths would cross, and everything could begin to feel like home again.

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