The city scape was barely visible through all the haze. Sonoko could only just make out the twinkling lights through the smog and darkness of morning. She wondered how many people in the city were waking up with her, lacing up their shoes and going to work to help their families. And how many others were waking up against their will.

  The noises of the city were muted all the way out here. It could trick you into thinking that Arcadia was a peaceful place. Finding peace in the city was an impossible task. Only when trees stood in for buildings could you see the real beauty. But the Makino family farm was one of very few farms left. Not just in Arcadia, but the world. Even while surrounded on all sides by an endless urban kingdom, Sonoko always felt like an outsider looking in. Something under that mist wanted her to know it was there.

  She stood up and dusted her pants off. That was enough pondering for one morning. Sonoko didn’t have time for that. Down the hill she loved sitting atop, the farm was ready to be tended to. Dad had only just come around to the idea of her out there by herself, though much of his change of heart was attributed to chronic back pain that kept him in bed longer than usual. The adolescent trees were waiting for her. She began her daily routine of watering and spraying the plants row by row, making sure that everything was in the right shape. Kneeling down to check the soil’s moisture made her legs scream in protest. The field had to be plowed the day before and Sonoko’s body didn’t appreciate the effort that took. The soil was damp enough, rain wasn’t a rare occurrence after all, quite the opposite in Arcadia. Yet with Sonoko doing everything right, they were losing more and more trees every week. Sure the soil was damp, but she noticed that the texture had felt more sandy this season. Each season it grew sandier and more trees died.

  The flower buds on the healthy ones were starting to glow brighter. They lit the way for Sonoko as she went down the rows. They were nearly ready to bloom.

  By the time she reached the final row of trees, the sun had just begun to peak over the edge of the city’s tallest buildings. Sonoko’s heart sank as that row became drenched in sunlight. All those trees had lost their posture and were crumpling to the ground. The leaves and wilted flowers had the unmistakable grey color of dead Neon trees. As Sonoko walked up to them, she felt her own posture dip down to their level. She held the poor flower in her hand. It would never live up to its purpose. She couldn’t stop the tears from springing to her eyes as she saw that the entire row was identical. With all these trees compromised, they weren’t going to meet their quota this season. 450 was the magic number. Anything under that amount of flowers wouldn’t be enough. They used to produce so much Neon that they could save some for themselves. Sonoko remembered keeping a glowing flower in a jar on her nightstand. Things are so different now.

  Love this story? Find the genuine version on the author's preferred platform and support their work!

  She couldn’t begin to think about the implications of that. She plopped down feeling as depleted as the soil. Panic rushed through her head. She saw images of the truck coming to pick up their yield. Her dad’s face of disappointment when he realized they were short. The next images came flooding through before she could stop them: taking down the “Makino Farm” sign, selling the house, being homeless on the streets of the city…

  Sonoko took a deep breath. No, she wouldn’t let that happen. Somehow it would all work out. Because it had to.

  She went inside.

  Her mom was doing dishes in the kitchen. The Makino house was quaint, made entirely out of wood. Sonoko and her brother’s rooms were up a set of creaky stairs. The house had been in their family for a couple generations, the very same that their dad, Kosuke, grew up in. It was a rural relic of a now lost Arcadia. Sonoko sat at the dining table. She fended off the awful images in her head as she drank water.

  “We’re not going to make the quota this season,” she said flatly. The words hung in the air for a moment before her mom, Suzu, turned around.

  “Have you spoken with your father?” her voice was calm but Sonoko could tell that there was worry underneath it. Sonoko shook her head in response. “It’s important that you do.”

  “I know,” Sonoko said, already defeated. “Can you talk to him?”

  “You know I can’t, honey. He left those responsibilities to you.” Suzu noticed that her daughter was hanging by a thread. She put down the cup she was washing and sat in the chair across from Sonoko. “I’m not saying that to make you nervous. I’m reminding you that you are strong enough to take care of it on your own.” Sonoko looked up with more tears welling in her eyes.

  “I’m not built for this. Dad would be doing it right now if he could. He wouldn’t let any of this happen”

  “Sonoko, your father wants you to do this, and he wouldn’t be telling you to if he didn’t believe it.” Suzu caressed the side of Sonoko’s cheek like when she was a little girl. He sure has a funny way of showing it, she thought.

  Suzu returned to the sink. It was hard to see her only daughter so defeated.

  It was a tender time of year for the Makino family.