The Girl Who Knows

The air in the abandoned convenience store was thick with the scent of stale plastic and something vaguely sweet, like forgotten candy. John had pried open a jammed freezer door earlier, revealing a few miraculously preserved ice pops. Lily, usually so vibrant, had picked at hers, her brow furrowed in concentration. Tom, bless his innocent heart, had devoured his with gusto, oblivious to the gnawing unease that had settled over John for the past few days. It was Lily, always Lily, who seemed to carry the weight of their world with an unnerving grace.

She’d been quiet for a long time, tracing patterns in the dust on the linoleum floor with a stick she’d found. John watched her, his own heart a tight knot of fear and a desperate, fierce love. He’d lost his wife, Sarah, in the chaos, the deafening roar that had ripped their lives apart. Now, it was just him, Lily, and Tom, adrift in this broken world. He’d done his best to shield them, to provide, but the gnawing question of *why* always lingered, a phantom limb of the life they’d once known.

“Lily-bug?” he’d asked, his voice rough.