Written with the prompts:  bright red lips, cave dwellers, something to read, everything was not okay, fast forward six months, can’t save everyone, jelly jar glasses, sanctuary, I’ll come back

Netta perched on the window seat watching the back lawn change color in the rain.  Cranberry clouds were melting against the horizon and the wet grass appeared streaked with dark Zinfandel.  Netta’s mouth was also tinted a bright red, whether from lipstick or from the liquid she was sipping was anyone’s guess.

“What are you drinking?” Marie asked as she entered the room.  “It’s awfully early for wine.”  She snatched the glass away from her sister, pausing in regret when she saw Netta was drinking from a jelly jar glass.

“Don’t be silly,” Netta chided her.  “It’s cherry cider.”

Marie scrunched up her nose and took a tiny taste.  Ew, cloying.  She handed it back.  “What’s happening now?” she asked as she stooped to look out the window.  

Netta took a hearty swig.  “The leaves are veined in magenta and brown, the sky is bloody, and every flower seems to be turning a citrusy orange—the roses, the gardenias, the hydrangeas.  Don’t get me wrong, I like orange well enough, but. . .” she sighed and gestured futilely, finally gulping down the rest of her cider.  She turned back to the window, but Marie looked at the empty glass with its few last drops of pink at the bottom.  Would it help, she wondered, if we drank nothing but colorless water?  Would that reset it all?  She sank into a nearby chair.  The truth was she was afraid to turn on a faucet.  What color might the water be now?

“At least the new colors are pretty,” Marie said with feigned optimism.

“Stop it,” Netta said emphatically.  “I’m so tired of being told to settle, to be satisfied with what we’ve got and not to want anything more.  Fast forward six months and we’ll all be dead at this rate.  I don’t think it’s too much to ask for a little chink of blue.”

Marie grasped her sister’s arm.  “If we hurry we can drive up into the mountains and save a tiny piece of sky.”

Netta rose.  “I’ll get my shoes.”

They rushed out with a butterfly net, determined to create a sanctuary for blues, greens, and deep purples. They knew they could not save every one but they would do what they could.  “I promise we’ll come back one day,” Marie said as they packed up cookie dough and potato chips, preparing to become cave dwellers.

“Me too,” Netta pledged.

“Remember to bring something to read.”

“Okay.”

Photo by Melody Zimmerman on Unsplash