Trash

The crunch under my boots was background noise to me now, a familiar disgusting noise that followed me everywhere in my city. My route to school was particularly bad, a simple fifteen minute walk that left a smell that would follow me the rest of the day.

The sidewalk was covered in bits of trash; even sharp shards of glass were everywhere. The wind pushed it around, scattering it all through the dead brown grass and dirty pavement. My city was filthy.

But, so was the rest of the world.

I was what people called an optimist. There was another, more boring political term for my beliefs, but in essence I was an optimist. Our country could be salvaged, it might take a miracle, but it could one day happen.

My city was filled with the pessimists. I referred to them as the doomists, which quite nicely, sound very close to dumbest. They believed our population was done for, the human race had to leave our planet or would be erased. Eradicated. Exterminated.

A whole bunch of scary sound e words I didn’t really believe in.

I couldn’t just give up, just abandon everything, everyone I knew and loved. It would require a crazy, world-changing event to get me to leave.

Turns out, that event was Miles.

I met Miles on a Tuesday, a day like many others filled with the familiar and yet disgusting crunch of trash and the ever lingering stench of my city.

My boots were worn. My thick socks, useful in protecting my legs from the bursts of sharp shards that the wind could whip up, were standing tall as usual. My dark green shirt hung loose on me now.

A car went by slowly on my left, and my eyes followed it as its owner stared intently on the road, more worried of a punctured tire than a collision.

The street had two foot high walls on either side, pushed hourly by the ever-working machines that circled the streets of my city, an idea from an optimist politician that had been passed congress early on. Now, there were too many doomists to ever pass such an idea.

The wind kicked up suddenly, and I pulled my shirt tighter. A large pile of garbage whipped up in front of me, and I side stepped quickly to my left, and accidentally directly into the path of someone who had been walking a few steps behind me.

He reached out instinctively as I wheeled forward, grabbing one of my hands as I frantically tried not to fall. I steadied myself, now staring directly at him after my wild dance. He still held my hand.

“Hello there,” he said with a smile. He had the accent of my city.

“Hello.” I answered back uncertainly, then pulled my hand back and readjusted my backpack strap.

He looked young, my age. Now getting a better look I recognized him from my third period class. Miles, was it? I'd never heard him speak before.

“Hope you’re okay there, sorry about that. I’m just in a bit of a hurry.” He grinned sheepishly. “I really hate walking out here.”

I nodded with a small understanding smile. “Me too sometimes.”

I had never really thought about that until then, but it was true. Of course I hated the trash, the filth, but I was supposed to be an optimist. But, some mornings I practically ran to class, never once glancing at the street beside me. I didn't want to look, I didn't even want to breath.

He started walking again, and I hurried to walk next to him now.

“I don’t know if I could ever really leave though.” He said casually, glancing towards me, then back towards the school. My eyebrows went up, views like his were rare. I was still watching him as he glanced back at me.

“But I will one day.” He started, staring at the ground. “I can’t stay here forever, I know that. This world really is done for, but I can’t just pack up and leave. I need a reason. A really good fucking reason to leave everyone I know behind because right now I couldn’t. I won’t." His words were slow, not necessarily angry just... resigned. "This is my home, I’ve lived here for almost twenty years and I won’t just get up and go. I need my past, I live for it. And until I'm ready for the future, I'm not leaving this dirty stretch of street anytime soon.”

I didn’t know what to say then. I kept walking with him though, silent.

Four months later, after meeting Miles, talking to Miles, and eventually falling in love with Miles, I left.

I left my world, I left my home.

I left my city, for him.