I sat in the darkness of the night, listening intently to what my parents were saying. My brother sat behind me, leaning against the door that my ear rested against.
"We're running out of food, Jerald! There is no way we can survive at this rate!"I heard my mother scold.
"What do you expect me to do?! Magically make the world heal! I'm not a god, Edna!" My father retaliated. They did this everyday, back and forth, back and forth, always about the same thing. How we lived in a flying city, and were running out of supplies, fast.
