On the clock tower

‘Isn’t that dangerous?’ ‘It’s where the kids sit.’ Jim was showing me around, the first newcomer for over a year. The kids were high on the skeleton of a clock tower. ‘I wouldn’t worry,’ he said. ‘It’s stood like that for years. Since the bomb. Pretty stable.’ There were two up there. Girls or boys, I couldn’t tell. Just squatting. ‘Get a good view?’ He laughed. ‘Sure! Great view.’ Later, I climbed the tower myself. The gravel desert reaching out to the edge of the world. The track snaking away. The sun setting, huge, forlorn and dull through the dust.   © TheSupercargo The above was written for the Friday Fictioneers flash fiction forum curated by Rochelle Wisoff-Fields. The prompt: … More…