N.V. Hardy

Morning

It was still dark but the moon kept me straight. I saw the garden first. The once was garden. Little bits of hidden order if you looked hard enough. Raised beds now sinking ships. Wild vegetables no longer tended resting contently in a sea of weeds. Nothing is tended now and everything is better for it. I am reassured of this as I bite into a tomato straight from the vine. Red nectar singing down my throat. It was in my searching for another that I spotted the house. The unmistakable glimmer of a glass window through the overgrowth. I tried the door. Locked. If only they knew how little that would matter. I start to look for another way in. Glass breaking always upsets me but it must be done. Shards glint against my headlamp, welcoming me in.