Only the Wisteria Had Been Left – by Libz (High School)

I stared blankly at the cascading folds of violet cloaking my sight from the blazing street surrounding us. The wisteria tree was the only living emblem that meant anything to anyone. Our value of material things was reduced to ashes as we now owned nothing except the clothes on our backs and the words in our head. Sighing, I caught glimpses of my companion walking to the untouched pay phone under the wisteria. As I walked nearer, I heard remnants of their conversation.
“The moment is over.”
I gulped and ran my fingers over the textured bark in distraction.
“Only the wisteria.”
His voice had a steely and matter-of-fact edge to it. Uneasy, I turned to the majestic image of the tree protectively looming over us. This was our untouched glory and the remaining reminder of all that had been lost and all that had been not.
I snapped my head to the sound of a metal click.
“What now?” I softly asked.
He shrugged and shook his head, his eyes strangely transfixed to a portion of my hair. My hands reached up to my head and I started to take out the bit of wisteria that had made it into my locks.
“No, no. Just leave it. Let it stay as a reminder of the only bit of our history left.”
We exchanged a grim look before edging out from the guarding cascades and making our way through the sizzling embers. Behind us was the wisteria, looming tall, grandiose and enduring.

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Learn more about the contest which inspired this story:  Nutshell Narratives 2019-03
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