Grey. Grey. Grey everywhere. The streets, the houses, the sky, even the horrid color stained my apron. I sighed out a warm, humid breath and immediately regretted it. My gas mask clouded up and a wave of discomfort washed over me. I wiggled it around the edges as if it would help, but stopped when I smelled the burning air. My hand shot away from my face to the shingles of the roof. From the top of the shop, I could see the city. Ugh. Even the grey stretched to the horizon, or maybe the smog was just that thick. I tucked my knees in towards my chest and hugged them. I like to think there’s more than this monotonous color. I also like to think that I could leave this color. There’s a force, a feeling or something, that’s stuck in my chest that’s trying to get out. I looked in an archaic dictionary to try to put my finger on it. I think it’s “yearning” or “wanderlust.” It’s weird and bittersweet. It’s also painful.

“Alexandria! Where are you, child? Get back to work. I need an inventory check on the new spools of thread that’s been shipped in!”

I cringed at the voice. Ms. Fresion’s sharp consonants and clipped vowels made for an ugly symphony every time a demand left her lips. I made my way off the roof and stood in the alleyway where the employee entrance and exit was. I opened the metal door with my government issued key card, and the shop’s complex key. The metal door had different tumblers that only this key could open. The heavy door swung opened with a groan and clean air escaped into the darkness. I stepped in and a small, yellow light flickered on. The door closed with a thud. I was left in the tiny, dim room. The room’s edges were only four feet by four feet and it wasn’t very high. There was a metal box and a mirror on the right side of the room, hand rails all around, and a drain in the center of the floor. A metallic voice filled the dingy room.

“Commencing sanitation procedure. Please put your arms in a forty five degree angle from your hips. Keep your feet a shoulder length apart.”

I was already in the position the voice commanded. A slightly warped blare began to sound and sanitation fluid began to attack me. My work dress and apron were quickly dampened and I moved my feet to adjust to the feeling. My leather boots squeaked in protest. I was thankful for my mask; the chemicals would’ve murdered my olfactory system. I watched the disgusting essence of the city wash down the drain. I almost retched when I saw something moving.

“Sanitation procedure completed. Now commencing drying procedure. Please step into the designated area and hold onto the handrails. Drying procedure will begin in 3…2…1.”

Gusts of air licked at me as the harshness of the gusts beat against my body. My grip tightened on the handrails. The dampness of my clothes soon disappeared, drying me in an instant. I could hear the whine of the machine slowing down and the air jets beginning to take mercy on me.

“Drying procedure completed. Remove your mask and place it in the metal box on the right.”

The door to the metal cabinet flicked open.

“Place the face of the mask upwards towards the lights for optimal cleaning.”

I undid my mask and took in the freshly sanitized air, smelling slightly of cleaner. I placed the plastic burden into the cabinet and closed it. I looked into the mirror and saw a pale face plastered with straight, black hair. It tends to do that ever since I cut it short. My dark eyes searched my face. My cheeks and nose were scattered with freckles and my pale skin contrasted the bags under my eyes. I looked away to straighten my dress and apron.

“You may proceed indoors, Alex.”

I hate when the cleaning programs try to get personal with me. They always do that whenever a key card is needed to enter. I opened the door and a loud, obnoxious, fleshy vessel bombarded me with noise. Oh. It was Ms. Fresion.

“You need to stop going onto the roof! You’re overworking the cleaning program. Why can’t you stay indoors like the other girls? You’re eighteen for crying out loud! You should be setting an example in this shop. What if the other girls went with you and fell off? I would be responsible and I would have to deal with the Civilian Peace Corps.”

I sighed and apologized, trying not to roll my eyes. I trudged over to the inventory room. Boxes were stacked near the door. It’s probably the new spools of thread. I scanned the room and found the laser knife. I switched it on and an electric blue light only 4 inches shot out.

Tearing into the boxes I was greeted with sickly green plastic wrap. I melted the wrap and turned off the laser knife. I pulled apart the plastic and the colors screamed at me. My eyes drank in the variety of colors. They were so beautiful. I began to take them out and put them on their respective shelves based on thread size and color. I continued the mindless task and marveled at the colors, but my fascination grew dull. This went on for a good while until I opened the last box.

There was one spool of thread that made me stop what I was doing. It was a gorgeous red. It wasn’t a solid red, no. It wasn’t one dimensional, like a child’s waxy crayon. It was more than that. I pulled it out of the box, completely fixated. The thread seemed to dance in the light. I turned it in my hand. It was a ruby, in the shadows it was a garnet, under a bright light it was a chunk of rose quartz. This spool was a gem.

I was enchanted by it. I loved the color red and it was certainly quite a sight compared to the grey of the city and the generic colors of the other thread. It was so beautiful. I couldn’t take my eyes off of it. The way the color seemed to be multifaceted, the way the red changed colors from every angle…I’ve never seen anything quite like it. The other threads were colorful, but they were lackluster. This one was different.

I’m sure Ms. Fresion wouldn’t notice if I took just this one spool, it’s not like she’d notice. I looked around the inventory room as I took the spool and placed it in my dress pocket while the others toiled away, desperately trying to complete today’s assignments. I was sure nobody would even notice this particular spool was gone, and with that I continued to stock the shelves.

Usually there’s at least ten or twenty duplicates of the same color. They probably made a mistake putting it into the generic ones. Maybe it was a fluke, the thread was definitely high quality.

I grabbed the empty boxes and made my way to the sewing room. The sounds of the needles drilling into the clothes were comforting and the light seemed a little warmer. I walked over to the wall and opened the latch to the incinerator. I threw the boxes in and made my way over to my sewing table.

“Alex, where have you been?”

I glanced over to my left. At the other sewing table, there was a girl with olive colored skin and wavy brown hair. She looked at me with concern, though she knew exactly where I was.

“Calm down, Sandra. I was just on the roof again.”

“Calm down?” she snapped at me.

“What if the Civilian Peace Corps caught you?”

“The CPC won’t catch me, Sandra. They haven’t yet!”

“ ‘Yet’?! What happens when they do, huh? What’s going to happen to you?”

“Sandra, you sound like Ms. Fresion.” Sandra clamped her hands over her mouth. I stifled a chuckle.

“I- I do not!”

“Yes, you do.”

“Ugh. Just…just finish today’s assignments. I finished a quarter of yours already.”

I looked to the wall where my unfinished orders were pinned, and back down to the basket with the completed ones. My chest began to fill with gratitude and I grabbed the nearest assignment and turned on my machine.

. . .

Closing time came and Sandra and I began to wrap things up. We grabbed our gas masks, our coats, and our lunch bags and left the shop. Sandra was in charge of closing up today, and I waited for her since we’re both going to the same housing quarters.

“Ready to go, Alex?” asked Sandra. I nodded in confirmation and we headed off.

Our feet clopped in unison on the cobblestone street, as Sandra talked about what happened with Ms. Fresion when she noticed I had left. It wasn’t anything new, but I let Sandra talk about how our boss blew up and how her face turned all sweaty and red and how spit flew out of her mouth when she yelled. We laughed at the thought of it.

I thought about the the spool of thread in my pocket. It seemed as if with every step, the spool got heavier and heavier. There was a sick feeling in my stomach. Maybe it was guilt. I turned to Sandra. We had been quiet for a while. I was conflicted on telling her about the thread. I had to tell her about it to alleviate this disgusting sensation in my gut.

“Hey Sandra, take a look at this.” I pulled out the spool of thread. It shone in the gas powered street light. Sandra gasped.

“What is that? Oh my gosh. Alex w-where did you get that,” she stammered. I looked at her, then to the thread, and back to her.

“I got it when I was stocking up the shop.”

“You… What?! Why would you do that? Are you crazy?”

“Whoa, quiet Sandra. The CPC might be roaming around.” My statement seemed to shut her up, but she was still visibly upset. We stayed quiet for the majority of the trip home.

“It’s red thread,” she said softly.

“Yeah…yeah it is.”

“You know there’s this ancient myth where if two people’s fates were connected to each other, there’s an invisible, red thread that connects their pinkies together.”

“How can it be red and invisible?”

“Alex, you’re missing the point.”

“Sorry keep going.”

“Okay…basically there’s an invisible, red thread that’s tied around one person’s pinky on one end, and the other end is tied around another person’s pinky. And no matter where they are in the world, no matter what happens to them, they will always be connected and they will always meet again.”

“Wow…cool.”

“Yeah.”

“You think our fates are connected to each other, Sandra?”

“I think so…why not? No matter where we are, no matter what happens to us, we will always be connected. And if we’re separated, we’ll inevitably meet again.” She stuck out her pinky. “Go on. Pinky swear!”

A smile spread across my face, though she couldn’t see it behind my gas mask. I wrapped my pinky around hers and we continued on our way home. Sandra was so kind and diligent. I’m glad I met her. She always keeps me grounded and makes me realize that my head can’t always be in the clouds. Sandra keeps me company in the housing quarters too, since we’re the only ones who are the oldest. She’s a bit of a rule follower though. She adores rules. Despite that though, I guess she’s like my best–

“Halt!” My blood froze and beads of sweat formed at my temples. We did as we were told.

Two figures dressed in white military uniforms approached us. The Civilian Peace Corps guards. I swallowed hard. They were tall and muscular and were approaching us quickly. Sandra was the first to speak.

“Hello guardians of Carmine. To what do we owe you–” A guard interrupted her. It was a man.

“We are here for nightly inspections. We need to see your government key cards.” The two of us scrambled for our cards. Sandra pulled her out for one of the guards, while the other one waited on me. I clumsily reached into my pocket and drew my card out. But it wasn’t the only the thing that left my pocket. The spool fell out and rolled to the feet of the guard. Silence drowned the night and everything seemed to move as slow as molasses.

The guard bent over and picked it up. He held it between his thumb and index finger. The silence grew and it choked me.

“Possession of any items other than standard government-issued key cards of Carmine and food bags when coming to and from work is illegal. This is a violation of the Reconstitution of Carmine, part four, section twenty six, subsection D.” The guard looked at his companion. “Search the other girl.”

Sandra turned towards me, then to the guards, and back to me. Then, she screamed. I jumped and didn’t think twice. I grabbed the spool from the guard, turned on my heels and ran.

“Watch the other girl, I’ll grab the runner!” the guard bellowed. My heart raced and my legs felt numb. Run, run, run. I turned a corner and saw the railroad track. I jerked my head to the left and saw the sleek metal train coming my way. A supply bullet. I began to run to the right.

“Stop where you are!” My throat burned and my legs protested. Tears burned my eyes and my cheeks grew hot, but I ran. I ran. I saw an opening on the titanium supply train. I have to.

I put all my energy into one last burst and jumped.

“AHH!” I gasped in pain. I managed to get in the car, but not without a gash on my left leg. I looked back at the guard. He grew smaller and smaller and soon he was gone. I leaned back in and analyzed my situation. I tore a part of my work apron and tied it tightly around my leg to stop the bleeding, and I removed my gas mask. I checked the possessions I had. I have my gas mask and my government key card. That’s good. They don’t know my face or name, but they’ll find it soon enough. I can’t use my card; it’ll be like sending up a flare. I have my lunch bag. And I have the thread.

I held it between my fingers, then I clenched my fist around the spool when I thought about Sandra back in Carmine. I pulled my arm back, ready to throw the stupid thread. I stopped and lowered my arm and looked at the spool in my hand. How can something so tiny cause this much trouble? I placed my key card in my pocket, and looked at the spool of thread again. It was still beautiful. It gleamed in the fast approaching morning sun. I remembered what Sandra had said:

“No matter where we are, no matter what happens to us, we will always be connected. And if we’re separated, we’ll inevitably meet again.”

A knot formed in my throat. I placed the spool of scarlet thread in my lunch bag underneath a sandwich. I sat down on the silver floor against the wall of the rumbling car. My eyes wandered to the opening of the car. The sky was beginning to show signs of morning. I had never seen the sky like this before, not without smog. The sky was red as the orange sun began to emerge from behind pink clouds. I held my breath. The red was beautiful.