It Feels Drafty

(I'm new to this, and really bad at technology and junk. So hopefully I do this correctly.)

It's been probably a month or so since I wrote this. The story is that I was bored, felt like writing, and found a writing prompt. There was no falling apple or double rainbow that inspired it.

Technically, I think it's a short story. Though short stories can also be considered poetry? It's been a while since I did any sort of "official" writing anything.

---

"It feels drafty."

"What?"

"What?"

"No, what'd you say?"

"Oh, just..it feels drafty."

"Oh."

The voices joined the symphony of footsteps over glass and a soft, whistling gust. The man shivered. The woman followed suit. The child coughed.

It was pathetic, really. Attempting survival. It was like a feather trying to fly away from a incoming tornado. Like a retail employee trying to find holiday cheer on black Friday. Like, like a mouse trying to scare an eleph..wait. Trying to kill an elephant by biting it. Then again if the mouse was infected it could kill it. It would just have to avoid getting stomped by the herd. And survive the infection. So I guess there's some chance of living. However slim.

"Can we be there now?" the child croaked.

"Yeah, okay." The woman's voice sounded like chalk as she led them towards an abandoned trolley.

The man raised a hand as he took the first few steps onto the groaning monster. The child clung to the woman's leg as she tussled his dusty hair. A familiar softness spread across her rigid face as she looked at him, waiting for the man's return.

The man returned, a clean line ran through the dirt from his eye to his beard. He sniffled. Hopping off the trolley with one hand behind his back, he said in a somber tone "No go." He looked at the child, smiled through cracked lips, and presented a teddy bear. Worn, dusty, and caked with dried mud, it was no proper gift. Or at least you and I wouldn't think it a proper gift.

The child's eyes widened, as the woman's leg was suddenly replaced by the unsavory bear. The child looked at the man, straight faced, but with eyes that beamed with gracious thanks. Flakes of dried mud clung to the child's cheek.

Her right hand on the child's head, and left hand clasping the man's fingers, she led them on, deeper into the city. Like infected mice, trying to find their elephant to bite.

---

https://www.reddit.com/r/OCPoetry/comments/5dkuj7/inconvenience/da6pu5o/ https://www.reddit.com/r/OCPoetry/comments/5dkljg/teardrops/da6q1tf/