The Girl in the Dust
The sky was not blue anymore.
It was brown, full of dust, and the sun looked tired. It hung low over the refugee zone, hot and dry like a fire above the land.
Rhea Akhtar walked through the narrow road with a scarf around her face. She held a metal box close to her chest. Inside the box were small green plants. They were soft, fresh, and full of life.
Green was rare now.
People looked at her as she passed. Some smiled, some just watched quietly. Children ran behind her with wide eyes.
“Miss Rhea! Did they grow?” one little boy shouted.
“Yes,” Rhea said, bending down. She opened the box just a little.
The children gasped. The leaves glowed faintly, like tiny stars.
“They’re so pretty!” said a girl with messy hair.
“Be careful with them,” Rhea said gently. “They need love and clean water.”
The girl nodded like it was a promise.
Rhea smiled. It was the only time she felt light — when she saw people remembering how to care.
She walked to her greenhouse, just outside the city border. It was small and made of recycled glass, but inside it was full of life — tiny trees, oxygen grass, healing flowers. Her parents had built it before the Collapse. They were scientists. Good ones.
They were gone now.
She lived alone and worked all day. She didn’t have time to think about sadness.
But something felt strange today.
As she finished checking her plants and writing notes, the sky grew darker. A dust storm was coming — fast and thick.
She ran outside to lock the doors. That’s when she saw him.
A man, walking through the storm.
His coat was too clean. His boots didn’t match the ground. And he wore a high-tech sky mask.
A sky-person? Here?
Rhea stepped forward, covering her face with her scarf.
“Hey!” she shouted. “You’ll get lost!”
The man turned. Dust clung to his shoulders. He walked carefully, holding something in his hand — a folded map.
“I’m looking for someone,” he said through the mask.
Rhea squinted. “You’re not from here, are you?”
He didn’t answer that. Instead, he asked, “Do you know a woman named Rhea Akhtar?”
Her heart skipped.
“That’s me,” she said.
The man paused. Then slowly, he pulled off his mask.
His face was calm but tired. His skin was pale, like someone who hadn’t seen the real sun in a long time. But his eyes — his eyes were deep and quiet, like he carried heavy things inside.
“I’m Takeshi Mori,” he said. “I believe you have something that once belonged to my sister.”
Rhea stared at him.
She didn’t know what to say.
When the Wind Stopped
The wind had stopped.
For the first time in weeks, there was peace in the air. The dust had settled. A warm golden light touched the ground like a soft goodbye.
Rhea stood at the edge of the greenhouse, watching the horizon. The flowers around her swayed gently. Some were glowing. The special one — the memory plant — bloomed fully now, white and beautiful.
She held it in her hands.
Inside its petals lived the memories of Takeshi’s sister — her laughter, her dreams, her last walk through this garden.
Behind her, Takeshi stood with his hands in his coat pockets. His face was calm, but his eyes were full of something else.
“I remember now,” he said. “She used to talk about the earth… about a girl with soil on her hands and sunlight in her heart.”
Rhea looked down, smiling softly.
“She was kind,” Rhea said. “She helped my parents… taught me things even after they were gone.”
They stood in silence for a while.
Then Takeshi spoke again.
“They want me to go back tomorrow,” he said quietly. “To the SkyGrid.”
Rhea’s heart sank.
“Will you?” she asked.
“I should,” he said. “I have work there… people who need me. But now… I’m not sure if I belong.”
He turned to face her.
“I came here searching for a flower that remembers the past. But I found something else — something real, something alive.”
Rhea met his eyes.
“You found it here,” she said softly. “So stay.”
He stepped closer.
“Will you be here… if I do?”
Rhea looked at the glowing petals in her hands, then up at him. The wind brushed through her hair.
“I will,” she whispered. “Not because I’m waiting… but because I’m already here.”
Takeshi reached out and touched her hand.
And in that quiet moment, they didn’t need to say anything else.
The sky opened above them — not blue, but soft and wide.
A new beginning.
Where the earth touched the sky.
