Josue Iglesia

The Great Land

I wake up with the worst pain in my lower back, as the sun shines down upon me through the glass ceiling of the metal home. I grab my bag and my machete and begin to travel east following signs towards Galveston. Sleeping in metal homes is always uncomfortable, but they keep me from interrupting a husk’s path at night. I don’t see them often which is why I choose to travel along highways. Despite overgrown foliage breaking through the concrete, highways are some of the only discernable landmarks still intact. Most towns have overgrown buildings covered in vines and flowers. Trees have broken through the pavement, and animals have found shelter in the old world’s homes.