300 Days of Writing
Day 46 Medicine:
The State was issuing out a new memorandum on mandatory medication. For the pollution, for the water, for the lack of happiness found anywhere.
Candy was in the Friday queue. People born in 1991, and in eight year increments on either side of it surrounded her, for they were the Friday group. Inching her way she tried to enjoy the rare autumn sun, but found she couldn’t find the joy in it. It warmed her cheeks and turned the insides of her mind red and yellow when she closed her eyes, but still, she found her mind lingered on her blistered ankle, her aching head, and tired body. When she finally made it to the dispensary, she was handed her months’ supply. Several orange bottles with her birth year written on the cap in thick sharpie.
Struggling with the safety cap, Candy started down the street, her head bent over her hands when she ran into someone.
“Sorry!” she said, head still down, too embarrassed to look up.
“Candy?”
The safety cap popped open and pills went scattering across the ground. Looking up, Candy’s eyes widened when she saw Fiona’s long braids, silver strands plated throughout the weave, and ebony skin so smooth, Candy nearly reached out to caress her and feel something warm again, but that was a long time ago.
“It is you!” Fiona said, brushing a hand across Candy’s arm. “It’s nice to see you.”
“And you.”
“Don’t tell me you’re still taking that, are you?”
“My medicine? Of course. Aren’t you?”
Сайхан Бичээрэй!
H