Chapter Twenty-Seven
People used to ride in boats just for fun.
They would go out onto the water and lay in the sun. I’ve seen pictures of it. Of the happy people who had no idea what the world would become.
They would travel all over, too. Not because they had to, just because they could. They would visit beautiful buildings and amazing places.
For years, I hoarded all the pictures I could find of life before everything fell apart. Happy couples smiling in Paris. Houses with swimming pools attached. Massive gardens growing in the open air.
The photos seemed less real to me than the fantasy tales written in books.
How could a world that offered so much beauty become the hell we live in?
Part of me blames the people that came before. If they had only done things differently, maybe a
