The Flower and the Constellation

This story containes: familial deaths, traumatic injuries from childhood, mature themes

This may as well be my last note. My last will and testament before I traverse once again into the vast, darkened ruins of a city I no longer knew. It had felt like months, years even, in this forgotten wasteland, and I was growing more hopeless by the second.

They say you can die from loneliness, but what about hopelessness? What about the bleak uncertainty of the future ahead of you?

As the now unfamiliar buildings lay in crumbling, ivy-wrapped decay around me, it became clear just how still everything was. How suffocating the now clean air was. How deafening the desolate silence was. There were no crickets chirping, no mice scurrying across the cracking pavement that once held two-ton vehicles and people taking strolls.

I had just packed up the last of my things in the old, tattered backpack I carried. Then, there it was. A definite shuffling off in the distance. It surely couldn't be anything living... Or could it? I approached cautiously, flashlight shining between the ruins when I saw him, a man hunched down just enough so that I could barely see him, but even so, he looked tall. At least 6'3". He was in baggy clothing that was just as tattered and filthy as mine. A dirty, ripped, red hoodie with the hood pulled up covered most of his facial features. The only thing I could really make out was his dark chocolate brown eyes. He had been the first living human I'd seen since the nuclear bomb first hit. We both froze, staring at each other in confusion as the realization slowly hit that we weren't actually alone anymore.

The minutes felt like an eternity before he finally stood up and spoke, putting his hands up to show he wasn't a threat. "I'm Orion." His voice was deep, but calming. The words he spoke were few, but enough. The silence lasted for what felt like hours before I finally blushed and apologized. A smile settled across my lips before giving him my name.

"Iris." He flashed a smile back, then quickly looked away. I noticed his breathing pick up just slightly before he removed the hood covering his head. I gasped in shock before quickly regaining my composure.

"Oh yeah. Sorry about that, I tend to forget a lot of the time. It happened when I was a kid." No more explanation was needed. He looked broken after the admittance. His burn scars covered most of his right side face, and half of his wavy, shoulder-length dark brown hair was missing. Scars covered where it should've laid. His scars were a mottled red and purple map of previous pain laid across his flesh, and all I wanted was to reach out and touch him. To tell him that we were going to get through this together. I didn't care what he looked like. All I cared about was getting us somewhere safe to wait for help that probably would never even come.

I moved towards him slowly. Cautiously, just to let him know that I was there to help him. I knew this whole city like the back of my hand, even in ruin, and knew the best places to wait out the rest of the night.

"The moon is at its highest right now. That means it's midnight." Orion said, looking up towards the sky.

"How do you know that?" I asked quizzically.

"I never had friends growing up. I figured it would be fitting to study the sky, considering my name." He responded and looked back towards me, a look of introspection on his face. I'd only known this man a few minutes and a feeling so powerful that it almost brought me to my knees washed over me. It felt like we were destined to meet. To help guide each other in this post-apocalyptic world. He was the sky, a navigator, and I was what would ground us.

"I'm sorry, Orion." I gave him a look of pensive sadness. "I was working out of town when the bomb hit. My husband and my two boys were at home. They were at ground zero when everything happened." I took a shaky breath. Catching the tears before they fell down my face. "I have nobody left."

"That's terrible, Iris." Orion said, reaching out his hand. I took it without question, and it just felt right. Like I had purpose again. We talked while I navigated us through the ruins, learning more and more about each other, and I finally felt some semblance of peace.

Finally, after what felt like forever, we found a decrepit, crumbling apartment. A single room was actually in decent shape, minus a hole in the ceiling from which we could see the night sky. We stayed there for the night telling stories about our past lives and what the future would bring.

I woke hours later to a hazy morning, and Orion sitting upright gently stroking my matted and sweaty auburn hair. I slowly sat up and stretched, then cuddled into him.

"Sorry I'm so gross. I haven't been able to find bottled water in a few days to clean myself up." I apologized to Orion.

"It's alright. I understand." He gave me a weary smile before putting his arm around my shoulder and pulling me closer before continuing talking. "I didn't sleep last night. You found this place, and I wanted to make sure that you were safe throughout the night."

"I don't even remember falling asleep."

"You passed out around four am. You were talking about your family before the bomb. You were telling me about your boys and husband. What you both did for work."

"Oh yeah." I pondered for a minute before continuing. "Well, what was your story? Were you with anyone? What did you do for work?"

"I liked someone, but never had the chance to tell her before everything happened. She worked with me. I was an astrophotographer, and she was my assistant for the last seven years. We had gotten close in that time, but I had always been scared to make a move because of my looks. I lost her while we were traveling. I crashed when the bomb hit because I wasn't paying attention to the road. She died on impact, and somehow, I got out unscathed."

"I'm so sorry." The only three words I felt necessary to say before wrapping my arms around his waist and hugging him even closer to me. Orion sighed deeply before looking back up through the hole in the ceiling.

'This is it.' I thought to myself. 'This is just the beginning.'