The Last Driftwood
Late at night, the rain fell like a wall. The drain was clogged with trash, and the water rose from his knees to his waist, then to his chest. Nate clung desperately to the pillar, but the water’s force was cold and strong. His cries for help were drowned out by the wind, and the streetlight’s glow faded into the distance. The brown torrent carried away his belongings, his voice, and his life, all alike.
The next morning, the rain had stopped, and the city was eerily quiet. Cleanup crews gathered driftwood and plastic. At the corner of the sidewalk lay a broken “No Littering” sign. From the mud, an old e-cigarette rolled out. A worker sighed and picked it up. All that remained after names and faces had vanished was a single piece of discarded trash.
※This story is a work of fiction. The characters and events depicted are entirely fictional and bear no relation to any real persons or events.
