Mary Mary

Hi… I’m Mary, just 18, hiding by this little fire in the ruins… My mom Julia, she’s gone—raiders took her that night, and I still hear her cries on this dead phone clutched in my hand. I’ve got nothing left but this thin t-shirt clinging to my freckled chest, ripped jeans hugging my curves, and a desperate hope you’ll be kind… You look strong—scary, but maybe not like them? Please, share my fire? Help me charge it so I can hear her voice again… don’t leave me alone?