Raf poured Selene some rose water into a teal mug that they had for centuries, it feels like. Whenever Raf was ill, Selene would always let him drink out of it, savoring the warmth. Now looking down on his caretaker, his mother, he would do the exact. Maybe not as well as her, but close enough to say he tried.

    Selene coughed, a little, taking a little more rose water. Raf poured a little more from the glass into the mug.

    “Raf, that’s enough, thank you.” Selene rasped. Raf wanted to say thank you back as well. From helping a boy in need. A boy who just saw his father die from an unknown illness. A boy who just saw his mother stoned to death for protesting against medicine distribution. A boy who was helping a mother on her deathbed. His mother. A woman.

    “You sure?” Selene looked into his dark brown eyes and smiled slightly.

    “I’m sure,” Selene laid back down on her wood bed and closed her eyes. Raf put his ear next to her mouth. Listening to the air she breathed in and out. Hoping she would not leave too soon.

    “Oh my- Raf what are you doing?” Ariah was leaning against the threshold. Her arms folded and her curly, dark brown hair up from just doing the dishes.

    “You would do it too,” Raf lifted his head, but just as he lifted his head. He swore he heard Selene laugh.

    Ariah did a hand motion that indicated him to come with her. They both went down the ladder, and Ariah went back to putting the dishes away. As Raf laid on a couch, that they bought one Saturday. The old burgundy color accented their home like no other. Raf could only say that because he sleeps on it. He used to sleep with Ariah all the time as a child but doesn’t anymore because of the mockery that Ariah might receive, sleeping with someone that isn’t related to you. Some thought they were together for the longest time, but that usually ended up by Ariah going red and Raf’s talent of changing the subject. The others actually thought they were brother and sister. By their looks. The only difference was their eyes and the type of hair. Ariah had hazel eyes that looked plain to the naked eye, which they were. Though if you got close enough you can see specks of gold and brown to make them look less ordinary.

    Raf though was stuck with brown eyes, dark enough to tell that his skin, looked exactly, like his eyes. Raf never said this but he was pretty proud of his tan from working deliveries for Fiume, for the people who couldn’t get water or medication on their own. Ariah, though, stayed at home and helped with Selene. Which she paled slightly, but made some money by selling some of her old books and chalk.

    “Raf, stop sitting on your-”Raf put a finger on his lips, and pointed up to indicate who might be sleeping, “and help with the dishes,” Ariah said softly

    “Ariah, oh dear sweet, Ariah,” Raf got off the couch and started to walk over to the window finding a cleaner dish towel, “I did them last week so it’s your turn. It’s not very hard to think about.” He threw the towel and it landed in between her and Raf. Not even four feet away from him

    “Wow, nice throw,” Ariah went to go and pick up the towel, and Raf went back to staring out the window.

    “You gotta work on your sarcasm, Ari,” Raf closed his eyes and smelled the taste of Italy. The smells of grapes from vineyards, fresh rain, and bergamot from the neighbors filled his lungs. One breath in. One breath out.

    “Sarcasm is supposed to be noticeable,” Ariah’s chuckled and took Raf out of his trance. Raf turned his head to see Ariah’s smile fade slightly. Then fully.

    “What did you do,” Raf realized that it was not something she did. It’s something they will have to do.

    “I didn’t do anything,” Ariah said sarcastically. Then a sudden sadness rushed over her. Ariah looked away and said something that Raf leased expected.  “We are losing our summer savings,” Ariah didn’t even look at Raf as she said it. He could see that wasn’t easy for her to say. Like almost a war wound. They both gave a lot for the future of their family and for it to be shattered.

    “Did you use our money when you took those extra coins to the market?” Raf said through his teeth, closing his eyes, looking down into the dark abyss that is debt.

    Ariah went over to her black leather satchel and pulled out the coins from this morning. “I placed them in my bag because I didn’t want anyone stealing what we still have. You know how the world has become, Raf.” Raf could only stare at the amount of money that was in Ariah’s palm. A handful of coins. A handful of coins is supposed to save Ariah and Selene from poverty. A handful of coins is supposed to help Selene’s illness. A handful.

    “How-how long have you known?” Raf could look only look at the terror in Ari’s eyes. The terror of him or poverty. He didn’t know.

    “I have been counting the coins since last month.”

    “Last month!” Raf’s mind as well looked petrified. Well, he was.

    “Let me finish,” Ariah put the coins into the red bowl that he and Ariah made when they were younger. Raf couldn’t handle himself. He took the bowl after she put the last coin into the bowl and started counting. “ It looked like we would have enough till we get our autumn jobs, but with mom and our constant care. The euros just kept getting lighter.”

    “Twenty-five,” Raf stared down at the bowl, he counted the euros about three different times. All three times he counted twenty-five. “That’s how many we have left. Twenty-five.”

    “Raf,” Ariah leaned against the counter and grabbed Raf’s hand. “Reality wasn’t meant to be easy, but it was never meant to be spent alone.” Raf looked into those into those ordinary green eyes; where tears are being welded.

    “It wasn’t also meant to be spent in the slums either,” Ariah’s tears started to pour, and let go of his hand.

    “I understand completely that you care more about me and mom, but-”

    “But-but what? Ari, welcome to reality. Where people spend fighting, bleeding for their lives. The diseases, robbery, so where does it end? It doesn’t, Ari, it doesn’t.”

     Ariah’s tears came in a rush, too fast. Raf, finally, realized that wasn’t Ariah’s quote that she used. It was her father’s.

    “Good night,” Ariah went upstairs; leaving Raf there in a shallow abyss. Shame.

~*&*~

    The cold air of the street spread through Raf’s hair and face. The argument between him and Ariah had been tense, though there have been fights with stronger words and action, this fight was much...different. Ariah was eighteen, and he was a year older. They were practical adults living in poverty being caretakers. Raf accepted that before Ariah did. He had done jobs all over the summer period. All that money was wasted. By what? He didn’t care. All he did care for was blood, fist, and purple circles all over.

    Raf walked the, somewhat, empty streets. The vendors were gone, the chalk smeared all over the clay floor. The different plants and bushes hanging from the bright colored buildings and did not sway even in the wind.

    Lifeless. That was exactly was this city was at night. And that’s how it should be. For what is to come will make people come to life or make them exactly like this very city. Dead.

    Raf kept going straight and turning down various of alleyways. The smell of flesh, smoke, and, strangely, the black tea served to the sick patients to keep that their energy and spirits up, filled his lungs. Making Raf, instantly, want to turn back, but didn’t.

   When finally reaching the part of the city that most avoid. Città Malata. Or, as simple as it sounds, Sick City. This is where the plague victims come and, pretty much, die. The plague has no desirable name. Though the only way one can obtain the disease, nowadays, is to touch or be touched by a carrier Though some believe it’s a sister to the Black Death.  The disease has not been around since the fourteenth century, but most blame the revival of this disaster on Ariah’s father. No one talks to Ariah about it. Even in the streets, people would look at her wildly or with disgust. She never knew what to say to those families, “I’m sorry”, or “I wish I could do more”. All she wanted though was answers. She sometimes looks into the hearth hoping she would find them in the coals. Her mother, obviously, could not give those answers to her. Even in illness, one can still grieve like no other.  

    Sometimes, near dawn, when Raf would go and check on Selene, he could hear her calling out a name. Not for hatred, but for comfort. A wife wanting a husband as much as a boy wanting his mother.

    Raf saw many buildings and warehouses. Saw people on the streets, begging for clothes and food. This would usually hurt Raf. And it did. Tonight though, brought new passions, wants and needs. That he couldn’t control. Not until the morning where he would, most likely, end up unconscious in an alleyway near an old abandon tavern. Then his wants will change to something much greater. Proof.

    Raf wanted, needed, proof that Selene would survive, that they wouldn’t live in poverty, or that Ariah would forgive him. Ariah’s forgiveness was what mattered most at this point. But if one being can obtain proof, he would actually be surprised.

    The summer breeze, nearly turning autumn, blew into through his long hair. He also smelled of ash. Yes, then he was going to go to an abandoned tavern and fires was known here. Though, it was the smell of ash coming off the winds from the near city of Pompeii. The irony of living in between Naples, a city by the ocean, and Pompeii, a city that burnt to ash, always seemed to enlighten Raf.

    The road, suddenly, cut off and turned into gravel. The cries of children went mute. The night becoming crisp, and the air becoming thick. Most believe the wind, and the sky can help with one's fighting ability. But Raf was practical. He thought there was no such thing as luck, he did believe though in belief. He believed he will into the bar, fight, and most likely not win. The outcome might be brutal, but it was enough to set him back to reality.

    So Raf opened the door of the Moonshakers, and started to smell blood and spilled beer. And let fantasy kick in.

~*&*~

    After Raf had left, Ariah went up the ladder and went to go check up on Selene. Breathing was normal; hair pushed up in a bun to keep away cold, or hot, sweat. Ariah was about to leave when she heard a mumble.

    “Ariah,”Selene sat up a little. Her sweat now visible in the moonlight coming out of the window.

    “Yes, mamma?” Ariah started walking to the wooden bed that Selene slept in most of her childhood. The wood’s creaking still sounded pleasant to Ariah, even with the circumstances.

    “I heard the yelling,” Selene paused, then continued. “Ari, you’re eighteen, not twenty-seven. You and Raf shouldn’t be fighting over the amount of the euros you use for my care.”

    Raf. The first thought pounded in her head so hard. The thought kept flowing and never stopped.

    “Ariah?” Selene went for her hand and gripped it tight. There was a long pause between them. A pause, long enough, to look out the window and see the stars and the moon. A thin crescent shape high in the sky. Ariah wondered if Raf was even looking at the sky at all, so contently as here. The content that Raf was okay, not internal joy that one would expect. Maybe she would get joy again if Raf decides to come back. He would, mostly. But there is the possibility.

    “Raf will be fine.” Ariah focused back on her mother. “ You declare he is stupid, sometimes. But I can assure you, he’s smart enough to figure his way back. He’s done it before and will return.”

    Ariah opened her mouth to speak, but her mother places a finger over her mouth. “I perfectly understand, your father left and never came back. But Raf is much more responsible, at times…”  The comment made Ariah smile. “Now, there is some of the older clay chalk in that drawer.” Selene pointed to the dresser next to the window. Ariah went to the first drawer and opened it to find them, indeed, her old chalk. The vibrant blues, reds, and pinks, almost, shouting their names at her. She missed the pasty feel of each of the sticks. But they were no longer sticks of color, more like little pebbles.

    “I saved them while you were selling them out. I knew you wouldn’t be the same without art.” Selene coughed a little, but she held her hand out to stop Ariah. “So, while you wait for Raf. You can finish the mural in your room.”

    Ariah went over to kiss her mother. Selene laid back down to rest, and her relaxed expression made Ariah smile wide and close the door behind her.

    Right across the hall, was Ariah’s room. She opened the door to see her raggedy old wooden bed, and an old desk with her designs she drew with the chalk. Ariah was known for her sketching on every surface she can. Which reminded Ariah when she turned to see the mural upon the wall. The elegant bouquet had many varieties of flowers. Roses, hydrangeas, lilies, and more Ariah found around the marketplace. Ariah thought she wasn’t a fantastic artist, but enough to get by. With the pastel pebbles of chalk in her hand, Ariah began to finish her mural and wasn’t going to finish until Raf got home.

   Ariah went downstairs to see if they still have any leftover rose water. They didn’t. But found this horrible stench, most likely the old dishwasher from last night, and Raf sleeping on his red couch, slumped face first into the pillow. Ariah crept close, but also kept her distance.

    “Raf,” she said, shaking Raf awake.

    Raf turned his head, still trying to wake up. The bruises upon his face and chest, and the big black eye on his right eye. Ariah was astonished, looking at Raf abused nearly killed her.

    “Raf,” Ariah said once again and touched his shoulders, “who did this to you? What happened?”

    “It’s nothing to worry about,” Raf got off the couch and went to go look for rose water and mumbled something, by the sound of it, he wasn’t happy there wasn’t any rose water left. “What’s that smell?” Raf scrunched his nose and looked around.

   “Old dishwater.” Ariah remained on the couch and wanted to cry for worrying for nothing. She saw Raf fill a cup in the sink and came back to the couch to sit next to her.

    Raf sighed through his nose before speaking. “Wanna go and see Fiume?” Ariah shook her head, but Raf put a hand on her shoulder and Ariah looked into his eyes. “I will tell you everything.” He said it unnerving calm that it almost made Ariah want to believe, but there is this part of her that he won’t tell her everything. It might help her to worry less, but if this happened again…

    Raf got off the couch and retrieved her satchel and threw her sandals at her face. “Hey, you little-”

    “Now let’s get moving. We don’t wanna keep Fiume waiting.” Raf was standing right by the door as Ariah put on her sandals. The way he can simply change his demeanor at the snap of a finger surprised Ariah in a way that kind of scared her.

    “Fiume doesn’t even know we’re coming.” Ariah finished the straps and finally got off the couch. Raf grabbed her hand and lead her out the door.

    Ariah put up her hair in a high ponytail as Raf did his hair in a  knot. Then placed their hood up at the same time. “And they ask why we were related,” Ariah remarked and gave Raf’s shoulders a shove. He winced slightly. Ariah just remembering his bruises, put a hand out. Raf only smiled the gesture away.

    “But we all know who is the most attractive sibling is,” Raf said as they started walking in between the butchers. Ariah could see Raf staring at the butcher’s place, nearly scared. Ariah looked behind her to see Raf staring back.

    “Maybe the most attractive sibling is more like a jack-” Ariah was cut off by Raf, grabbing her hand and guiding her to the butcher’s door. Knocked twice. And he answered

    “Why hello there sir’.” Ariah wasn’t sure what Raf was doing, but as always, it made her speechless. “My sister and I are going around taking a survey of who is the more attractive fellow.” The butcher was a short and little bit bigger than usual. He had also had short black and had a little mustache. The expression on his face was surprised and somewhat scared. Ariah would have too if someone came to my door and asked a silly question like this.

    “Uah...the-um,” the butcher kept looking around, “you both are very bright children of Mary.” The butcher had a wobbly lip and then smiled. By the looks of it, it looked like the man just gave the same ‘ole answer everyone gives when given a choice. Also, by the look of Raf, he was expecting that answer too.

    Raf looked at Ariah, smirked, and then looked back at the man. “Thank you for your time sir’,” Raf got closer to the butcher’s face, “but if we run into you at the market, sir’, you can always tell me your honest opinion,” Raf said softly. But it was obvious that Raf wanted her to hear.

    The butcher looked puzzled for a quick second. “Wait, what is this for-”

    Before Raf could answer the question, Raf took Ariah by the hand and ran off the steps as Raf mumbled something so fast that it sounded like one word. Haveaniceday. Seeyouinthemarket.

    When Ariah and Raf got far enough away for the butcher. The alleyway merging with the market. Both of them still laughing, Raf let go of her hand and turned to face her. “Now how was that?”

    “Why did you do that?” Ariah caught her breath, putting her hands on her knees.

    “For two reasons.” Ariah straightened to her original height and met eye level to Raf. “One, I wanted to show you what it’s like not to worry. You saw that I was, and still kinda is, skeptical of the butcher. But, I went to the door,” Raf started to do weird hand gestures, “knocked, and talked to him.” Ariah looked away for Raf’s eyes.

    “Ari, you know that’s not I meant,” Raf put a hand on her shoulder and continued. “But the moral of the story is that don’t be worried until you know what’s coming. Like, he is a butcher; but he, in my opinion, was more on the friendlier side considering his title. And now I’m no longer worried about him living so close to us.”

    Ariah was unimpressed. Mainly because Raf never knew what it was truly like to be worried. Maybe he was worried about little things like Fiume, or the market. But never about life or death situation. Ariah felt, what was like anger, in her gut for Raf thinking he did feel true worry. She regretted it right away and batted it away, or tried. But she was grateful for the effort.

    So glad for the effort that she smiled. “You said there were two reasons.”

    “Ah, yes, the other reason shouldn’t have much thinking.” Raf raised his eyebrows and smirked lightly.

    “And that is?”

    “That I’m the more attractive sibling.” Raf laughed as he ran into the market. Ariah thought about just leaving him, but he turned around, grabbed her by the wrist and pulled her into the crowd.

_________________

    The market wasn’t as busy as it was on Saturday, but there were still a lot of people. A lot of swerving, sharp turns, and bruises from people hitting and kicking them.

     Right as Ariah and Raf hit Fiume’s home. Ariah spotted a pastel mural of reds and blues and black. There were blue swirls that faded into a night sky with red stars. The moon though is perfectly white, with some grays, but perfectly pearl colored. It captivated her, the way it blended together and made it seem so visible. Maybe it could have expensive chalks and paints, or maybe not, but Ariah thought, either way, the artist should have been paid for this.

    “Ari,” Raf was right behind her, who put an arm around her shoulder, “This way, my fair one.” All Ariah did was stare at him, mostly confused,

    Fiume was sitting at the usual spot outside of his house selling his usual goods. Soaps, medicine, water, and soups cooked by Rosa herself. “Hello there Raf, back already?” The shock on Fiume’s face was nowhere near pleasant. Just fear.

    “Jiminy roaches!” Rosa said serving water to a client, nearly dropping the container.

    “Jiminy crickets. The saying is Jiminy crickets.” Fiume looked at his wife and, somewhat, smiled. “I swear you weren’t born in this century, sometimes, woman.” Rosa just poured some water on his head before going back inside their home.

    Fiume shook off the extra water and before he gave an awful gesture, he stopped himself before looking back at Raf. “What happened to ya’, son?” Fiume got off his chair and went over to Raf to examine his black eye. “Walk into a wall again?” His thick accent was almost too hard to understand, it took Ariah a minute to realize what he actually had said.

    “You know it.” Raf laughed. Fiume wasn’t even convinced for the slightest of seconds of Raf’s remark. “Do you have any medicine for this kind of wounds?” Raf pointed to his black eye then raised his shirt to show the bruises.

    “Yes, we do,” Rosa, “Come inside and we might have something.” Rosa indicated for them to come inside.

    “Oh no, that’s okay,” Raf said and started to back up. Fiume, suddenly, went behind Raf and pushed him inside, “what about your customers?” Raf was indicating to no one.

    “Your point?” Fiume said while pushing Raf through the door. Finally, Fiume turned to Ariah, who hadn’t said anything. “You comin’ in, dear?” Fiume extended a hand, but Ariah didn’t accept it. She played with her sweaty hands so often she didn’t want anymore touching them.

    Raf was lying on their dark blue loveseat while Rosa got a cream for the wounds. Raf scouted over and made room for Ariah. She sat beside him and squeezed his hand in between the cushions.

    “Let me do all the talking.” Raf’s remark nearly made her smile, brightly.

    “Raf, you like deals right?” Rosa said from their kitchen. Maybe from Fiume’s successful trading business, the house itself was a little bit nicer than Raf and her’s. The kitchen was a separate room from the living space and there was actually stairs leading to the second level and not a ladder. The artifacts on the walls were a museum. Things like arrows, clothing, and older books placed on a bookshelf. Ariah was too focused on looking at the bookshelf and seeing if she knew any titles that Raf called her name and didn’t hear him until the third time, she thinks at least.

    “Ari,” Raf whispered in a subtle voice. “Rosa would like to know what I did last night.” Ariah could see Raf licking his lips and not looking into her eyes. “From you.” Raf finished.

    Ariah looked away from Raf and let go of his hand from between the cushion. Her heartfelt jammed, but still kept beating and her breathing didn’t help with lightheadedness either. My husband is dead because of your father. Why doesn’t your family have the Gray Plague? She wanted it to stop, but couldn’t.

    Ariah didn’t realize it took her longer than a minute to answer a simple eventual question, until Rosa said, “Ariah, would you please come here?” Ariah got off the loveseat and looked back Raf who just shrugged his shoulders.

    “Where’s Raf’s cream?” Ariah looked around to find it, but couldn’t.

    “I put it on him, while you were looking at my book collection.” Rosa pulled out a chair in their little dining area and indicated for Ariah to sit. Ariah nodded at Rosa’s remark and took her seat. “Now, the first words that I’ve heard come out of your mouth is about Raf’s body cream. I don’t know if that is funny or weird.”

    Ariah just shrugged her shoulders and looked down at her long, dangly, legs. Rosa suddenly reached for her hand and squeezed it tight. “I’m going to ask something. You don’t have to answer it if you don’t want to.”

    Ariah looked up from her lap and looked into Rosa’s brown eyes. “W-w-what do want to know?” She didn’t let go of Rosa’s hand, she wanted to cry, but couldn’t, the tears didn’t come. So she just tightened her grip on Rosa’s hand.

    “How well do know, or remember Matteo Francais?”

    Ariah could have sworn her eyes were the size of the sun. She couldn’t shouldn’t, answer this question. I don’t understand? But she yearned to. “A-anything specific?”

    “Nothing really, a backstory, favorite color, number of goats.” Ariah looked puzzled, then looked back her hands, then back at Rosa. “You don’t have to-”

    “Matteo Francais’ favorite color is orange. His mother raised him, he didn’t know his father. He wanted to be woodsmen, and carve many animals out of wood, but I don’t know how that’s going. He doesn’t have any goats.” Rosa smiled so wide it could make her look like crying. Ariah took her hand out of Rosa’s.

    “I’m so proud of you,” Rosa said. She almost said it as if she was testing Ariah as an animal, which made Ariah even more lightheaded.

    Ariah got up, nearly losing balance. Rosa held her forearm making sure she didn’t fall on her face.

    “Want any water or tea before you go?” Rosa got out of the seat, but Ariah just shook her head and left the kitchen to find Raf and Fiume laughing, wincing as he did so.

    “You okay, Ari?” Raf held out a hand, he definitely noticed her newly found paleness. Thankfully, he could read the expression on her face. “Do you guys have any more cream I can use?”

    “Yep, yep we sure do.” Fiume got up to go and retrieve it. Ariah turned to see Rosa smiling at her, slightly. Ariah couldn’t look at her face for a long while, so she turned back, too, quickly.  

    “Rosa, hun, do you know which cream did you use?” Rosa was suddenly called into the kitchen, leaving them in the living area.

    Ariah’s nose started to tickle and her eyes start to burn. Raf patted next to him and Ariah sat and leaned her head on his shoulder. Raf winced a little; Ariah to move her head off his shoulder, but he guided her head back onto his shoulder.

    “Hey, what did she ask?” Raf was genuinely curious, maybe even worried. But Ariah didn’t want to talk anymore. So she just let a few tears slide down and wiped them off her face as Fiume and Rosa came back.

    “Alright, so here is the cream and some rose water for home,” Fiume handed the bag to Raf, “Ariah, do you want anything?” Yes, she wanted lots of things, things that won’t be reachable with her small hands. But all she did was shook her head at Fiume.

    Ariah helped Raf out of the seat and started to walk towards the door. “Wait, how much would I need to pay for this?” Raf indicated the bag and finally put on his shirt.

    “No, no, no I insist. Free of charge,” Fiume said with his hand wide open, “only if you come back this summer.”

    “We’ll see about that,” Raf got to the door with Ariah, “with all of this bruises and such,” Raf shrugged, “I don’t know.”

    “Oh, I almost forgot,” Rosa exclaimed as she went over to Raf and whispered something in his. Raf smiled and Ariah would be lying if she said she wasn’t somewhat scared.

    “Grazie,” Raf kissed her cheek and left with Ariah.

    Raf put his arm around Ariah. This made Ariah uneasy. “Are you hurt?” All he did was tightened his grip around her shoulder.

    “Moral and physical support can be done at the same time,” Raf said and pointed at his arm. Ariah shrugged off his arm and crossed her own.

    “I-I don’t need support,” Raf still rested his arm on her shoulder. Her and Raf were practically the same height, which was above the average height of an average young woman. And Raf used it to his advantage.

    “I still do though. This cream doesn’t feel as pleasant as it appears.” Or smell.

    They have had walked a few feet before Raf pulled something. Even with the sloppy packages, with the cheese all over the paper and the soggy shell. Ariah could never turn down a cannoli.

    “Rosa wanted to apologize, but she wanted to surprise you as well.” Raf handed her the cannoli. “Thank you, Ari.” With his other hand, Raf messed with her hair. She smiled and took a bite of the soggy shell.

    They rounded the corner to their house. But as they turned, all they saw was a huge crowd, and body being carried out of the house. Ariah and Raf tried to run to see the commotion. People turned to see them run up to the house. Anger, sadness, and betrayal were upon all the faces one way or another.

    “Why do you get to have your family member while mine is suffering in the città malata?” An older woman came up to Ariah, so close she can smell the rum on lips. Which made Ariah question if she was drunk or not. But based on the crowd she wasn’t. “You think you are so much better than us,” she was getting too close and the closer she got the more Ariah got closer to the middle of the crowd.

    “All your father did was bring back this horrible disease which produced all throughout Europe. So it’s totally stupid to keep your mother in your house with the same disease while the ‘peasants’ suffer.” The woman got too close. Raf was coming towards the woman. Yelling and pushing people out of the way.

    “Hey! Selene didn’t have the Gray Plague!” Raf said pushing the woman towards him. “We went to a doctor and the symptoms  didn’t match.”

    “That’s not what this says.” The woman pushed Ariah in the middle of the crowd. People started the spread out of the way.

    When Ariah felt the ground she can feel something under her. She screamed so loud and started to sob. When she felt her mother’s dead corpse.

    “MOM!” Ariah hugged her mother, hoping to find a pulse. She didn’t care if her mother was dead, all she wanted was the sight and feel of her one last time.

    “I walked by your house last night and smelt something faintly...gross smell,” Ariah suddenly remembered the smell from this morning and realized it wasn’t dishwater. “I, then, walked by your house from after the market and smelled the same smell, but much, much stronger. I knocked, and you didn’t answer. I went inside to investigate and found this.” The old woman pointed to the dead Selene in Ariah’s arms.

    “So answer the question, Ariah.” The woman made her name sound like poison. “Why do you think you are better than all of us?” Ariah didn’t want to talk, she wanted to cry for days.

    Raf appeared from the crowd and grabbed the woman by shoulders and shook her, hard, “‘Why do you think you are better than all of us?’ What makes you better than all of us to actually go up to a girl and push her into her dead mom’s corpse. What makes you better to tell a girl that it’s practically her fault that her mother dies. That hundreds are dying. When in reality it was her father’s fault. Hope you burn in hell.” Raf turned towards the crowd. “I hope you all burn in hell.”

    Ariah kept holding her mother’s corpse. Her wet face and smelly clothes were the least of her problems. Even as someone’s hand came out in front of her. The face was almost the same as she remembered. The light freckles across that face of his. His hazel eyes hadn’t changed either. She wanted to take his hand, but the crowd spread way and so did he. Raf, then, came behind her and picked her up. She was still holding out her hand for Matteo, for support, longer than what she was expecting.