Casandra loved misty mornings. The thick fog would slowly encircle the house and she’d sit by the picture window, pretending to be the princess of the clouds.
Now, decades later, she cringed as the black mist descended, reeking with pollutants. She watched her grandchildren dutifully imprison themselves behind masks as they got ready for school.
Immersed in their selfish battles of ulterior motives and self-interests, leaders had miserably failed humanity and the most repulsive part of it was, they didn’t care. More than half the world’s population was now buried underneath layers of choking smog but they appeared on TV with lofty promises and arrogant justifications.
People too, had now simply shrugged off what they considered an inevitable part of their existence and concentrated all their efforts on adapting to this new reality. Years went by and this hostile environment eventually became the new normal.
But for Cassandra, this would never be normal. She yearned to breathe with the freedom she once had, for the friendly days of fog, not smog.