2041 -- Rachel Young

Shoulders and elbows shoved her small body around as the woman made her way through the bustling city streets. It was early evening, she had just left the market, a bag of rice and beans tucked neatly under her arm, and in her other hand a small bunch of wilted greens. She hated the city. The amount of people squeezing through narrow sidewalks and streets made her feel trapped. Maybe she would have liked them in the past, but not now. Not with the dense crowds and the heavy smog that seemed to choke you even when she found shelter inside. There was no sun, but it was hot. The heat followed like a cloud overhead. There hadn't been a cool spell in months. The weather was unpredictable, unforgiving. The woman tugged at her loose shirt, the fabric itching her neck moist with sweat. It barely rained, but when it did, it rained hard.
Appt. Building 633. She was home. The woman punched in the code to the old key pad, something inside the door whirring quietly until finally, a familiar click. Closing the door behind her, she pulled off the white face mask that sat over her mouth and nose. She waved to the man at the lobby desk, but he didn't look up from the paper. The lights were dim and flickering as she made her way up the stairs to her room. She opened the door, hearing the familiar sounds of the day to day.
"You're home"
A little voice called out in acknowledgement. "Of course," the woman responded, "I didn't want to stay out late on your birthday".
He was 12 now, and the woman kissed her son on the forehead as he sat still turned to the television. She placed the groceries on the table, the greens on a wooden cutting board. She hated them, the GMO-Frankenstein plants they ate now. They were nothing like what she had as a girl, but it was all the world could offer at the present.
"--being forced out of San Francisco in droves. Officials say there is no other option for city inhabitants, as the sea levels continue to rise at alarming rates. Despite warnings and evident destruction, some citizens refuse to leave their residence..." 
She scoffed as her knife sliced through vegetables, listening to the reporter on the TV. There was no hope for them, everyone by the sea. Hawaii drowned out years ago, and some were saying that japan and Indonesia were on there way to a similar fate.
"... europe is being hit with their 3rd major storm this year, with winds and heavy rainfall devastating towns and cities..." 
The woman glanced out the window at the buildings piled on top of each other, the people swarming like ants on the ground below.
She missed the home she once knew all those years ago, that tiny cottage placed on South Carolina's quiet shores. She remembered waking up to the warnings, the day they left so suddenly. Everything she left behind, all those memories and mementos swallowed up by the rising ocean flooding in.
"I drew some new ones today," the boy placed papers covered with marker and crayon on the table in front of his mother, breaking her away from her memories of what once was. Giraffes, blue macaws, coral of all colors painted the papers in front of her. She studied them, heart heavy. They were all fantasy to him, only a story. The wonders of the world she grew up with were nothing but history to this boy. Gone. Extinct. "I love them," she managed to utter.
Holding her son to her side, she sighed. 2041. How the world had changed. 2019, 22 years old. She remembered the warnings, the efforts to make change. The Earth is Dying, A Rapidly Changing Climate, Extinction, were all headlines so present in her everyday life. And despite her concern, she always thought somehow things would be fine. Never did she think any of it could amount to the disaster that was her present life. 2029, her son was born. She remembered the warnings, the critical moments the world had left to make change. And yet, she did nothing.
A sigh escaped her lips. Was it fair to raise a child like this? Without all the glories of the life she once knew?
She wished with everything she had to go back. There was so much she could have done yet she was so blind to it, so passive. Solar panels, recycling, electric cars. Maybe if she knew that life on earth would go to such havoc and disaster, she would have tried more to make a difference. To save everything that gave the world so much beauty. She held her son close. Elephants, coral reefs teeming with life, polar bears, fields and fields of wild flowers. He will never know any of it.