Belinda Crawford

World-weaver. Tale spinner. Geek.

Page 3 – 2nd Person

World changing. Your twin’s words ring in your ears, following you into the dark mess hall and around the vacant tables that sprouted the legs of upturned chairs like a herd of hedgehogs. You don’t need world changing, you weren’t looking for anything more than life changing, your life changing, but all the same something had tightened in your gut when Sassa flung her hands in the air and said the words. The something stayed with you, crouching in the back of your mind, running up and down your spine with equal parts excitement and trepidation.

You push past the half-door, slipping into the galley, dimly lit by the green exit sign and the small red standby lights on the huge appliances. The heavy cold-room door stands at the end of the long row of stainless steel benches and you pull it open slowly, waiting until the flickering automatic light steadies before you step across the threshold. Rows and columns of carefully stacked and sorted food and, towards the back, a stack of frosted plastic drawers. You slide one out, revealing the pile of orange-red, banana like fruits the gathering party collected the day before, and reach in and pick out the juiciest.

“A single genetic marker.” Your breath frosts in the cold as you study the fruit, your mouth already watering. “Changing the world.”

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