The Great Split by Anna Karlusheva

It has been a couple of hours since

our last stop, so I paused and looked around in hopes of finding a place to rest. Fortunately for me, I spotted something looking like some remains of a house. Works for me.

The place turned out to be pretty decent, so we decided to spend the night here. There was not much left from the building, but, at least, we got a shelter from the wind.

As night started to fall, we lit a fire. I looked at the boy in front of me. He was so young, probably not even 15.

“Do you remember anything from before the Great Split?” I asked.

“No, not much” -- he looked up at me -- “I was just a kid back then.” He fell silent for a moment and continued, “I think I remember looking outside through the window and seeing almost no one. The rare people I saw all had their faces covered with masks.”

We sat in silence for a couple of minutes before he broke it, “How was it back then?”

I hesitated for a moment. Should I show him? After a minute of internal disputing, I reached into the inner pocket of my jacket. I felt a little piece of paper neatly folded. I didn’t have to open and read it to know what was written there.

“Remember to stop by the groceries, we’ve run out of sugar. Love you, honey. See you in the evening <3 I have something special planned for our anniversary xoxo”

We had a perfect life. Me and my wife, I mean. She is the one who left the note for me. I loved her dearly, I still do, but all good things come to an end, I guess. I just wish that the end of us wasn’t so devastating.

It had been almost ten years already since the 2020 year. Many things happened then: the pandemic, many earthquakes, fires, and floods. And then, the Great Split. I remember that day as if it was yesterday. My wife, my lovely Aleah, left for work early. I was getting ready to head out to work, too. I remember standing in the kitchen reading the note she left me when the ground cracked, and hell emerged.

I was not able to find her, not that day, nor later. I still dream of us not getting separated then. Perhaps, if I had left for work with her, we would still be together.

All I have left of her is this small piece of paper that I haven’t lost due to dumb luck. I miss her.

“Hey, you alright?” I snapped out of my thoughts with the voice of the boy sitting next to me.

“Sorry, got lost a bit. I was just thinking of the family I had back then.”

“You still miss them, do you?” he asked.

“Yeah,” -- I nodded -- “but now I have you.”

“I am glad to have you too, mom.”