The flood took everything, even the birds. Water rolled and crashed over anything that remained, dragging the dead to the surface in the wake of their escaping gasses, but it was the noiseless sky that turned her stomach. She dreamed in birdsong, surprised by her own aching over the now dead sky. As the world drowned, her hopes had nowhere to go but up, and now there wasn’t anything left there either.
Her memories existed beneath, full of dark and slime and shadow.
And then there was just her—afloat somewhere in the middle, still deciding which direction to look.
Tiffany Meuret is a writer and desert-dweller from Phoenix, Arizona. Her work has has been published or is forthcoming with Four Chambers and the SFWA blog. Additionally, she was a 2018 attendee of the Futurescapes conference in Utah. Find her on Twitter at @TMeuretBooks.