“BEFORE THE downpour, there were places so clear, you could see your own reflection,” Ami breaks the silence between her and her sister, Isla.
Letting go of the oars, she stretches her arms and removes her respirator, the putrid air filling her nose. But being a child of the believed revelation, she was already used to it.
The eternal drizzle accompanies them as Ami stares at their surroundings: it is the usual view of muddy waters, water hyacinths and birds. The floating plastics are the closest thing to a rainbow.
Despite being submerged in the flood, the city’s concrete trees still tower over them, decorated by vines, roots and leaves, seemingly reclaimed by the Earth.
They stop in front of a structure, different from the other colossal buildings. This one’s made of stone, with statues sitting atop. Its centerpiece, a clock, is forever stuck at three. Like the rest of the buildings, moss and wild plants have adorned its walls.
“Mama studied here,” Ami says as she pulls out a notebook.
“She told me that nothing’s changed since,” Isla whispers, letting her umbrella fall, her tears becoming one with the rain.
“We never should have gone to the city.”
Ami glances up at the sky, wishing that her eyes would burn, only to be met with heaven’s downpour. She pulls her sister in for a hug, the boat rocking as they tremble. Ami pulls away to look at her little sister. She cups her face, wiping her tears away.
Isla’s umbrella continues to float on the waters, moving further away. Its color, bright and blazing, contrasts the hopeless swamp that surrounds them. Perhaps, this may be the last time they will see yellow ever again. F
