Blue

The girl walked along the cracked pavement, the jagged fissures allowing weeds to poke through like green, reaching fingers. She had been wandering for an age, but for how long, she could not say. The concepts of "hours" or "days" felt like a language she had once spoken fluently but could no longer translate.

Each bare foot pressed into the sun-warmed stone. Fresh blisters gleamed at her heels—tender, weeping reminders of the miles she had traveled without a destination. Her brown hair, streaked with rust-red, whipped around her dusty cheeks as her cerulean eyes scanned every corner. She was not looking for a landmark; she was looking for a memory.

The once-sky-blue dress hung in grimy folds from her slight frame, its hem brushing against loose gravel with a dry, rhythmic hiss. In this quiet procession, the world’s distant growls and the sighing wind felt suspended, as if the universe itself were holding its breath, waiting for the sky to finish its descent into yellow fire.

The girl navigated the maze of metal, her small form dwarfed by the rusted husks of a world that had ceased to be. The hulks of vehicles clogged the roads, abandoned in a chaotic, frozen river of steel. They sat at agonizing angles—some mounting the curb like dying beasts trying to climb to safety, others locked nose-to-tail in a jagged, permanent embrace.

As she weaved through the metal labyrinth, she saw her.

A stranger stood in a patch of open asphalt, her blonde hair shimmering in the harsh noon sun, casting a long, sharp shadow. She wore a stained leather jacket over a faded Metallica tee, paired with worn-out jeans and white sneakers. She stood with a bewildered expression, her gaze locking onto the movement between the rusted fenders.

"W-who are you?" the stranger’s voice cracked, brittle as dry kindling. She swayed slightly, her eyes darting from the girl's unnervingly bright cerulean eyes down to her raw, bleeding heels. "W-where are your shoes?"

"Shoes?" The girl in the blue dress looked down at her feet. "Shoes... I... I don't have any," she said. Her voice was silky and smooth, a haunting cadence that felt as if it belonged to the stars rather than this broken earth.

"How don't you...? Here." The blonde girl knelt, shrugging off her rucksack. She rummaged inside, her hands shaking, before thrusting a pair of tattered grey sneakers at her. "They're not much, but they're better than going barefoot."

The girl in the blue dress fumbled with the laces until she finally pulled them tight. "It's... uncomfortable," she said, wincing as the rough fabric pressed against her inflamed skin.

The blonde looked down and frowned. "They're on the wrong feet." With a sigh, she reached out to correct the mistake. As her fingers brushed against the girl’s skin, an electric pulse arched between them—a sharp, static pop that made the air hum. Both flinched, pulling away as if the touch had burned them.

"So, what's your name?" the blonde asked, rubbing her tingling palm.

"I... I don't know," the girl whispered.

"Okay... I'm Pauline Fletcher," Pauline said, holding out her hand. The girl stared at it, then mimicked the gesture, but held her hand awkwardly stiff. "No, silly, like this," Pauline chuckled, gently taking her hand and shaking it properly. "So, where are you from?"

"I'm from over there," the girl pointed back towards the horizon, toward the haze.

"Okay... well, what's the last thing you remember?"

"I saw... you."

"Me?" Pauline sounded skeptical.

"Yes."

"Alright..." Pauline said, trying to process this. "Well, I need to give you a name. How about... Blue? Because of your dress."

"I... okay."

"Well, I'm heading that way," Pauline pointed past Blue, deeper into the maze of metal. "You can come too, if you like."

Blue looked in the direction Pauline pointed, shrugged, and said, "Okay."

As they walked, Pauline glanced back. "So, how old are you?"

"Old?" Blue asked.

"You know—age. I'm nineteen."