New Year

Jordy fell to his knees and peered down at the rubble beneath his dust-covered black boots. The bombs had come without warning, concealed by the fireworks of the new era, hidden behind humanity’s aspirations and optimism for the future. Without the strength to lift his hands, he dragged them through the dirt until they came upon the only object nearby: a picture frame. He drew it slowly toward his face and blew the black soot from the glass. His eyes, heavy and sunken, settled fondly on the picture. It was set in a time of security and hope, of foolishness and deceit. He looked into the firelit sky, taking in the grayness of the clouds and whatever grayness was still to come, then lowered his gaze. In the picture, Jordy and two others held champagne glasses toward the camera, their smiles blissfully untroubled. Behind them hung a banner: “Happy New Year.”

He stood with what little strength remained and began to walk, the sinking sun looming behind him as the firelit sky darkened. A crackling sound came from beneath his boot. Jordy lifted his foot and saw what remained of his phone. He picked it up and swiped the dimly lit screen. An animated bird appeared, and a muddled voice read aloud, “Unable to refresh.” He swiped again and again. Each time, the overly ecstatic bird returned. He gripped the phone until his hand shook, then slid it into his pocket. He was lost, as he had always been, but now even his hollow optimism was gone. He drew a deep breath of smoke-thick air and coughed until the last of it left his lungs. From his pocket he heard, “Unable to refresh.” He continued into town.