Green Desert - Chapter 2.1.2 - Fírí

I stared at my face in the bathroom mirror. Had I dreamed the whole thing? My forehead was smooth, cut-free. My elbows and ribs, too. I must’ve at least dreamt the tripping and hurting myself part. The shooting and the old couple and the foreign kid were all too real.

I opened the door, flipped the lights off, and headed down the ocean-blue-painted hall. Vata was cooking breakfast. The kid––Bhanar––sat rumpled on the living room couch. He didn’t make eye contact. I glared at him. “Nar.”

He looked up and mumbled a question.

“Don’t stare.” Teenagers are so immature. As I walked away, I smiled. Here on Narasha, Bhanar probably wasn’t even ten yet.

The whole house was one bold color after another and the kitchen was no exception. Ugly-ass bright green. Vata stirred something in a fryingpan. Meat. My stomach turned. “Just sit down, dear. It’s almost ready.”

The table had already been set, minus the plates and glasses. I pulled out a creaky wood chair and sat on the floral cushion.

Behind me, Bhanar shuffled across the linoleum. “What are you cooking?”

Vata smiled broadly. “Rabbit.”

Strange memories––dreams––flashed through my head. Darkness. Flickering firelight. A bloody knife. A cloaked figure in shadows. An old hand reaching at me.