The chemicals which rained down on the inhabitants of the seven great cities didn’t pause to distinguish on class grounds. Corpses rotted in the palatial bunkers of the rich just as quickly as they did within the communal shelters infested by the masses.
For years there was nothing. Then the inquisitive drifted back; tests were run, samples taken. Breath by breath the air was clearing: the poison all but flushed from the atmosphere.
Where there was once only death and decay, life has now returned. Where once pro-war graffiti polluted the sightlines, purple headed flowers now reach for the sun.
These words form my entry into this week’s Friday Fictioneers photo prompt challenge.