Anna

I stumbled through the empty streets, the dark blue night sky a vast backdrop for numerous spots of angry orange-red flames. The distant fires painted a startling contrast against the calm melancholy of a silver moon that perched above me as I half-walked, half jogged closer and closer to the fires. I could feel the heat begin pounding in the night air, a strange combination of warmth mixed in with a cool evening breeze on an autumn night that made the skin on my face tingle and prickle. Every now and then, other people ran to and fro, helping hands that moved forgotten memories. The one thing that struck me was the absolute silence in the air, the quiet that had settled in around me so peacefully if I closed my eyes and forgot the increasing heat I could almost imagine myself in a different world altogether.

And that’s when I first saw her. She was quickly walking back the way I had come, a soft white quilted blanket draped around her from head to toe, wisps of long, black disheveled hair framing a strangely familiar face. Her house was not too far from mine, but closer to the encroaching flames. We walked together, simple and direct, and she learned that I loved to cook, though not for a living. I learned she loved to dance but had never gone swing dancing. She said that she had come from the East to start a new life for herself, and with soot smudging her right cheek, she looked up and smiled at me.

Her name is Anna.