Fire | A flash fiction story
39 of đź’Ż
“I’ll be fine,” Crash said, her only arm hugging herself awkwardly — she missed her crossed arms stance. “I just don’t understand why you have to go.”
Maya swang a huge backpack over her shoulder. They were under a tarp ceiling held by wooden posts, the wind shaking it violently after being denied entrance by the huge city walls.
“Because…” Maya trailed off. Crash’s eyes were demanding. “Do you know why they call this place The Fringe? It’s not because we’re on the fringes of the city, we’re on the fringe of humanity. Today I saw two people fighting over a can of bug spray they got in the trash so that they could get high. At the same time, there was a third man wearing only trash bags. He looked me in the eye and lowered his plastic pants to take a shit — staring at me. These people don’t care anymore. They’re broken beyond repair, broken by what’s inside these walls. How did we get to this? How can we-”
“No. No!” Crash protested. “You said we could change it. You said we could make things better.”
“I’m sorry, Crash. For every person we recover, there are three new ones thrown out of the city through the same gates you’ve been. Do you remember that day? Do you remember why we call them vultures?”
“So that’s it?” Crash threw her hand in the air. “You’re just giving up?”
“No!”
“Then why are you leaving?”
“For the same reason I left the city,” Maya put a hand on Crash’s shoulder. “You’ve got fire in your eyes, girl. I remember when my fire burnt as bright as yours. I’m leaving before it goes out completely.” She brushed her face. “It’ll be okay. I just have to leave before I lose all hope. Because if we don’t have hope, we don’t have anything. Without hope, we’re no longer humans.”
