In the morning, they packed the butter knife, the last of the preserves, and the bones of their old lives into a grocery bag. Andy unchained the door. Leyley went first, as always.
Leyley sat up. The butter knife glinted. "The one with the door?" the coffin of andy and leyley
"Because we're running out of food. Because the smell from the chute is starting to drift back up." He hesitated. "Because I had the dream again." In the morning, they packed the butter knife,
"I saw Mom today," he said quietly.
Leyley was quiet for a long time. Then she turned in his arms, faced him in the near-dark. Her breath smelled like canned peaches. Leyley sat up
"Promise you'll help me dig."
"The one with you on the other side. And you're crying. And I can't open the door because my hands are made of glass."