Aldon Stiles

Happy Earth Day

It’s Earth Day, 7 A.M., 2092. Morgan hands me a small box with my name on it in faded ink. It’s cute, sure, but I hate gifts. Morgan knows I hate gifts. Who has the time? I sit up in my cot and accept his present. Violent explosions and the sounds of whirring missiles shooting by our shelter vibrate the very air around yet here he is, box in hand. Smile on face.