Water, Water, Everywhere
The sky was overcast, the clouds impossibly darkening the sky. Even the rain looked black.
The little girl tugged on her mother’s coat sleeve. “I’m thirsty,” she whined.
“I know you’re thirsty,” the mother said. “I’m thirsty too.”
“But Mommy, I’m thirsty!” the girl reiterated.
The mother sighed and looked out the back of the tent. They had been relocated to Cleveland from the Greater New York area. Not too long ago they had been living in a large home, over five thousand square feet. Now they were crammed like sardines into the Time Warner Amphitheater. Two days ago the water purification system had failed, and armed guards were patrolling around every so often, doling out individual bottles of water. Other than that, there was nothing to drink.
Rain was leaching in, trickling down across the floor, dripping from failures in the top of the fabric covering over the amphitheater.
“MOMMEEEEEEEEEE!” the child shrieked.
Water, water everywhere, nor any drop to drink.