The Tiny Migrants
A short story in preparation for a larger expanse by Joshua Byrd.
The days are sometimes long, down in the southland. Time seems to stand still when the evening sun hovers over to the west long into the night. The daylight has been saved by modern custom and no longer do the rules of nature prevail upon humanity. June sat in the evening sun, slowly sucking on a cigarette, the kind you roll yourself. She was blowing smoke rings and looking up at the branches of the trees that were growing out front where she lived. Beside her sat a small cup and saucer that was still half full with milky tea.
June was thinking, as she often did on lazy Sunday afternoons. She was thinking of her surroundings mostly, the city that she had somehow found herself inhabiting. Having come from the country originally, June had always had plans to move out of her confinements and into the big city. She had only been there for a little over a year, though the city had already started to feel like home.
A bird flew over head. A seagull, June thought. She lived near the beach, though beaches down here were nothing too spectacular, not when you consider some of the beaches up north in places like the Gold Coast or Sunshine Coast. She liked her beach regardless, and often time would just walk up and down its shores for long stretches at a time, just thinking of a million and a half things about life, love, and the pursuit of happiness.
One last puff, and then I'm out, thought June. Her pouch was virtually empty. She could possibly scrape together one last one from the dregs, but she had decided that this time would be it; this time she was going to quit.
June stared out into the fading sunset. Half an hour flew past.
June craved.
A short story in preparation for a larger expanse by Joshua Byrd.
The days are sometimes long, down in the southland. Time seems to stand still when the evening sun hovers over to the west long into the night. The daylight has been saved by modern custom and no longer do the rules of nature prevail upon humanity. June sat in the evening sun, slowly sucking on a cigarette, the kind you roll yourself. She was blowing smoke rings and looking up at the branches of the trees that were growing out front where she lived. Beside her sat a small cup and saucer that was still half full with milky tea.
June was thinking, as she often did on lazy Sunday afternoons. She was thinking of her surroundings mostly, the city that she had somehow found herself inhabiting. Having come from the country originally, June had always had plans to move out of her confinements and into the big city. She had only been there for a little over a year, though the city had already started to feel like home.
A bird flew over head. A seagull, June thought. She lived near the beach, though beaches down here were nothing too spectacular, not when you consider some of the beaches up north in places like the Gold Coast or Sunshine Coast. She liked her beach regardless, and often time would just walk up and down its shores for long stretches at a time, just thinking of a million and a half things about life, love, and the pursuit of happiness.
One last puff, and then I'm out, thought June. Her pouch was virtually empty. She could possibly scrape together one last one from the dregs, but she had decided that this time would be it; this time she was going to quit.
June stared out into the fading sunset. Half an hour flew past.
June craved.
