Hiroshima

When they dropped the bomb, the spent, young lovers were sprawled naked, on the futon. They crawled and pulled each other the few feet through the soot and ash of the bamboo mats to the Koi pond in the garden.

Even in death, the bright red Koi glowed brilliantly on the surface of the water, now the temperature of the tea, still boiling in the pot nearby.

The couple slid into the water to escape the flames and to soothe their blackened skin. They tumbled together into the water, their flesh bright and fluorescent, as it cracked and split like the fish they baked the night before.