Strawberries || H.S.

T W E N T Y O N E

Mia looked in the direction of the bakery, her eyes widening when she sees smoke coming from it. She ran the last couple of steps, flinging her bag to the ground by the entrance. She prayed that it wouldn't be what she imagined. She hoped that nothing would be wrong, that it would just be that Harry had burned some loaves again. Her heart pounds wildly as she opens the door, praying that she found everything as it had been left before she closed the door the previous night. Hoping that the bakery would be as beautiful in her memory. But instead, she found the handle hot to the touch, and her eyes watering the moment she stepped into the door.

"Barbra!?"

"Mia!?" Barbra yells, stuck in a corner by the register.

Mia runs to her, kneeling beside her and coughing loudly.

"Where is Harry?" Barbra says in a weak voice.

"He isn't here!?"

"I didn't see him, dear."

Mia gets up, smoke getting thicker, "You need to get out of here!"

"I'm going to call the fire department, please find Harry!"

Reluctantly Mia leaves Barbra, handing her the phone before crawling on the floor to the main kitchen. "Harry!?" She yells. But nothing.

And then she sees it, his knapsack on the ground by the oven. She panicked. She knew that within it would be his journal, his loose manuscript, and his favorite pen. She scrambled to get it. She hugged the knapsack to her body, coughing loudly. She doesn't know where Harry is, but she hears him scream "Barbra!" She tries to yell out, oh she tries to yell out but the smoke that has penetrated her lungs won't allow her to.

She straps the pack upon her back and crawls weakly to the main room once more, only to see Harry already exiting with Barbra in his arms. She extended her arm, wishfully hoping that he would sense her.

She yelps as she feels the heat surrounding her, and she knows that she doesn't have much time. Mia realizes that the closest door to her is the back entrance. So she gets up, covering her eyes from the clouds of ash, and runs towards her only hope for salvation.

She didn't want to die, God, she wanted to live. She wanted to see Harry's smiling face, to feel his touch upon her skin, to eat one more bloody strawberry and watch it stain her fingertips.

She just wanted to live.

—✴—

—✴—

There was a a particular night though that both Mia and Harry remembered quite vividly. Harry in particular didn't remember what date it was, but Mia had the memory, the date, the time forever ingrained in her mind. They were in the cabin, a slight breeze coming in from a crack in the window. Mia had not been able to sleep, her mind racing places she hadn't been in quite a while. Harry felt her unease, the way one feels goosebumps upon their skin. It was pure and utter intuition that he felt her discomfort. So he turned, wrapping his arms around her and cradled her to his chest.

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing really. Just my mind not wanting to turn off."

"You thinking about your mum?"

"Among other things."

"Can I do anything to help you fall asleep?" He asks, kissing her forehead.

Mia nods, "Can I tell you a story?"

"Isn't it usually the other way around? Shouldn't I be telling you the story?"

"Harry." Mia says in a single breath.