nuclear seasons ; saffron.

saffron.

Hash, six.
Dial-tone, then nothing.

"Pick up, pick, up, come on."

Hash, one.
Flat lining.

"Stupid phone."

Hash, four.
Nothing but static in her ears.

"STU-PID-FUCK-ING-PHONE-"

"Mom?"
"Shit, Quinn - go back to bed honey,"
"I want some milk-"

"Okay, okay," she hangs the phone up and prays, hands shaking as she pours her daughter a glass of milk at 11 o'clock. "Here you go, drink it quickly, okay? Mommy's making some phone calls."

"To who?"
"My friends. You remember Annie?"

"Ugh!" Quinn scoffs between gulps.  "Is it her birthday again?!"

"No, kiddo," she places the empty glass back on the bench a little too forcefully. "Back to bed now?"

"But MoOooOOm-"
"Enough, Quinn! SLEEP, GO!"

As she scoots her daughter back up the stairs Saffron tries to remember to breathe as she thinks of her friends, thousands of miles away, and prays for their safety. All Reggie had been able to tell her was that something had happened in two of the districts. That all the workers in Ten would have to work twice as hard with the same pay. That power would be rationed, and that most importantly: nobody would be happy, not for a long while.

But what Saffron wanted to know Reggie had no answers for. They didn't know which Districts were affected, and probably wouldn't until next year.

Hash, one-one.
The same crackling on the end of the line.

Hash, five, worth a shot.
It doesn't even ring.

Hash, two, Juliet. No.
Hash, one-two, Aranica. Nothing.

Hash, six. Still nothing.
Hash, six. Again, nothing.

Hash six hash six hash hash six six six six six hash six hash six hash six six six six HASH SIX-

"But I promised him," she whispers into the flat-line, voice croaking with her failure. "I promised, I promised, I..."

She falls asleep on the couch a failure of a friend, broken phone in her hands left off the line, while District Six weeps.