She must’ve had a name before being pulled from the rubble. She won’t remember it. “Birdie”, they called her. So small, loved whistling.
Birdie must’ve had parents. A place in a home, a city, a future. What remained was her place in a wagon, pulled by her rescuer amidst a stream of dirty ghosts, flowing away from the wreckage of lives towards ill-defined hope.
One day Birdie tells the survivor who pulled her wagon, “I hate them for doing this to us.”
The survivor says, “Don’t bother. I promise it hasn’t occurred to them to think of you at all.”
Celine Aubert (pseudonym) is a writer/editor of technical manuals, and a freelance writer/proofreader. She received her BA in English and Professional Writing from York University, and lives in northern Canada with her husband, infant son, and spoiled dog. This is her first publication. More details about her current and forthcoming work can be found at celineaubertauthor.com. You can also follow her on Twitter, @CelineAubert4.
The Centifictionist 
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