Raindrops began to dot the ground around me. The hot summer air was not doing me any favors; even the air was oppressive that night. The air was thick with humidity; it stuck in my lungs. My chest heaved. My feet pounded the asphalt as I ran desperately away from my house, the only place I had ever called home.

The heat was fighting me. I could have collapsed at any moment, but I forced my body to keep moving. I ran even faster. Faster and faster and faster. My head blanked, and then there was nothing other than the sound of my feet against the pavement and the pitter-patter of the rain. Jagged pieces of rubble cut into my feet, and I left twin trails of bloody footprints behind me.

Once well-loved homes flanked me on either side. Just like ghosts, I could almost see when there were still people here. Bits and pieces of the past came rushing back to me, and once the memories started pouring in, it was like the dam had broken. All those echoes of the past were crying out to me, and I feared that if I stopped or faltered for even a second, I would find myself right back where I started.

I ran until my legs burned. Stumbling forward, I dragged myself forward step by step. My head sagged, and my heavy eyes trailed along the ground until I felt the spring of cold metal wires against my head. It was pitch black. Groping blindly in front of me, I found my hands locked around the rough metal of a chain-link fence overgrown with ivy.

The drizzle had long since turned to rain, and the ground was slick. With my lungs about to burst, I braced myself against the fence and followed it. It wasn’t long after that I discovered a slit in the fence large enough for me to slip through. The jagged edges of the wires caught on my clothes and scraped my skin. I flinched, but it wouldn’t stop me.

When I emerged on the other side, it felt like I had entered another world. The thick ivy vines had been blocking the street from sight, but now that I had crossed through, there was no mistaking it. The area ahead was illuminated by a smattering of streetlights and a dimly lit gas station. There wasn’t a soul in sight.

It felt like I had been transported back to a time before the air strikes had destroyed everything. The world was whole again. How it was possible, I didn’t know. I couldn’t have traveled more than a few miles.

Down the street, I found a grocery store. Its sign had a few missing letters, but inside it was well stocked. The sterile, white interior was jarring. Compared to the crumbling state of my house and my pitifully dwindling supplies, this grocery store was a paradise. Perfectly stocked shelves were visible in every direction.

At one time, shelves like these felt ordinary, but they now felt out of place. Just short of the front doors, there was a display advertising cereal boxes. The beaming mascot smiled at me next to a brand name I didn’t recognize. The text bubble proudly displayed the message, “Bring home a box of Mother’s cereal today! It’s got what kids crave!” Advertising was once the bane of my existence. Now, however, I was almost relieved to see it again.

A flicker of movement caught my attention from down the aisle. There was a woman absent-mindedly walking away from me; she contrasted with the otherwise sterile, white surroundings. I could have let it go, but it had been so long since I last saw another person. So, instead of minding my own business, I followed her.

The woman stopped in the baking aisle and began meticulously comparing the nearly endless selection of cake mixes. What was the point? They all looked the same to me anyway. I wanted to speak to her, but I hesitated. What could I possibly say to her that would sound sane? Just as I was about to lose my nerve to speak to her, the familiarity of the woman assaulted me.

There was only one woman I knew who looked like that. She was a small, mousy woman with dark brown hair and eyes too big for her face. Her movements were both timid and frantic, and her many layers of brown clothing were ill-suited to the weather. There was only one person it could be… It was my mother.

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My feet moved before I knew it, and suddenly, I was by her side. She jolted in my direction, and then she saw my face, and her eyes shot open.

“Victor?!” she cried as she stumbled backwards. The boxes she had been holding escaped from her grasp and tumbled to the floor.

“Victor?” she repeated. “Is it really you?”

If there was anything I knew about my mother, it was that she always seemed to be scared of something. And considering how she was looking at me now, it seemed that this time it might be me.

“Yeah,” I mumbled. “Hi, Mom...”

“Victor…” Fear turned to relief as tears brimmed in her eyes. “I thought I’d never see you again.”

“I didn’t think I’d see you again either.” I choked back.

“How are you doing?” she fussed. “It’s been so long; we must have so much to catch up on.”

I coughed and shifted my weight to my other leg.

“I’m alright,” I lied, and hoped she wouldn’t press me further. There wasn’t anything worth sharing.

“You look well,” she beamed, continuing like she hadn’t noticed.

I sighed in relief. My eyes were puffy and bloodshot. My clothes were tattered and stained. And, to top it all off, I was barefoot and soaking wet in a grocery store at some god-forsaken hour. I must have looked like a lot of things, but “well” was not one of them. If ever there was a time that I was relieved that my mother had a knack for avoiding unpleasant topics, this was one of them.

“Yeah, you do too,” I lied again.

There were so many things I wanted to ask her that I didn’t know where to start. What happened? Where was she? And, lastly, why did she leave me alone to fend for myself? I was only seventeen when it all went to hell… Still a child…

I gritted my teeth and tried to force the words out of me, but a halfhearted “Where have you been?” was all I could muster.

“Sorry?” She blinked at me.

“Where have you been?” I muttered again. “…I was waiting for you, you know...”

“Waiting for me?” she fidgeted. “Oh, Victor. Why would you make such a big fuss out of something like that? I was just heading out for a bit of shopping.”

“You expect me to believe you were out shopping for who knows how many years?” I asked, feeling my pulse pound against my temple. How stupid did she think I was?

“It’s just….” she sighed. “Well, you know how it is.”

I didn’t. She avoided my gaze and began to sweat.

“It’s hot in here, isn’t it?” She asked, fanning her face with a pamphlet from her purse.

“Not that hot,” I mumbled quietly.

Her eyes darted around the shelves before finally settling on her feet.

“There was always so much to do…” she trailed off. “There was always this or that, and I never knew where to start. The house was such a mess…”

She paused. “We never did finish going through your father’s things…”

The house was littered with clutter, boxes, and endless unfinished projects that she was always going to get around to someday. Among the mess were all the things that used to belong to my father. He had died only a few years before the war. My mother hadn’t been able to bring herself to move any of them, so even his pants still sat at the foot of the bed where he last put them.

“No, we didn’t.” I agreed reluctantly.

Sweat was running down her face now, and she was frantically wiping it out of her eyes.

“Oh dear, it’s so hot in here. It must be all this terrible weather.”

She unbuttoned her outermost coat and began to fan herself faster. The color began to seep from her eyes, her skin blanched, and she shook like a leaf.

“It was just… It was just too much, Victor,” she mumbled.

Her already heavy breathing grew more labored, and her sweat ran like water. It spilled from her as she spoke and puddled at her feet.

“There was always too much to do, too much to decide, too much unfinished. You understand, don’t you? Especially after your dad…”

She trailed off and looked up at me, hopefully, and I stared down at this frail woman who had never spoken to me about anything unpleasant so directly before.

I swallowed hard. “Yes, Mom. I know…”

Her nearly colorless eyes lit up.

“That’s my boy!” she beamed, practically bouncing on the balls of her feet. “Now, where was I? I just need to finish up my shopping, and then we can go home. Maybe I’ll make some cake to celebrate. Oh, we’re finally coming home together! You like cake, don’t you, Victor?”

Before I got the chance to answer her, she turned to walk away, and with every step she took, the puddle beneath her feet grew. It grew larger and larger until it turned into a bottomless pit and swallowed her whole, leaving nothing behind.