Roxana Zamani-Ashni

The Exchange

Water dripped from a nearby severed rusty pipe, creating a splashing echo across the dusty warehouse. Cyra peered around from behind the relative safety of a crate, wiping a bead of sweat from her forehead and away from the matted hair. A wave of fatigue passed over her. Gripping the straps of her backpack, she stepped out from behind the crate and straightened her back, pushing the growing fear to the back of her head.