Value

Mitzie pulled on Heyward’s sleeve, forcing him to stop and see her pointing at the object.

“What the hell’s that doing here?”

Heyward shrugged. “Waiting for someone to put it out of our misery.”

Mitzie leaned over the what had once been the keyboard. “This had value, once.”

Her boyfriend picked up one of the vines. “And these once bore fruit you could eat.”

Mitzie stood, and folded her arms across her chest. “You judge all things by their current value?”

He turned, and resumed walking. “There is no value in another person’s memories.”