Firewood Economy

A few families still live at the edge of Enilchek, and their economy runs on exactly what you would guess: livestock, distance, and firewood. Two kids came through the ruins hauling a cart built from rebar and two car wheels, loaded past sense, and the grade was against them, so I put a hand on the wood and pushed without asking, because asking makes it a favor and favors need refusing.

We moved the load together to the inhabited end of the street, them pulling with the offhand strength of children who do this daily, me pushing in a wool coat that has now retired from elegance. No common language beyond effort and the word for thank you. Payment was offered from a pocket of walnuts and accepted at full rate. I watched them go on between the shells of the buildings, cart squeaking a rhythm the town knows by heart. The future that was cancelled here still gets its stoves lit every evening. That is the fact I drove home with.