Sticks and Moss

Do you remember when the bombs fell? Were you old enough? Did you see the flash, feel the impact in your teeth?

It's hard, now, to remember things before. I'm pretty sure the sun is even different now, somehow.

I dunno. Sometimes the quiet makes me remember things. I don't like that.

The storm came down from the mountain and spread over the Heartlands with all the ancient rage of some god no one remembers; flashing lightening and shaking the land with low thunder that rattled around for too long. The small shack had wood walls and more space than wood and now more rain than space. It was wet and Indra was miserable. She clutched the blanket tight about her shoulders, soggy hat low over her eyes. The man next to her grinned. "It's solid. It's solid."

They were young; late teens thinking they were adults already and thus immortal.

"And if he kills us? She asked cutting her eyes to him but knowing already what he would say.

I should have, well, it’s a bit late for regrets. There’s a whole lot I should have done and even more I shouldn’t have done. But I suppose every man has enough regrets as to let him die happy. Just hope I did some good once I learnt to see the world for what it was.