All the Chargers

At 2:06 in the morning, one hour after a house fire, a woman buys every phone charger left at a Walgreens. Four red bars are all the family has to carry into morning.

This is a fictional receipt and a fictional night.

[Spoken intro]

Walgreens number 2281, 701 South Main, Dayton, Ohio. Wednesday, February nineteenth, 2:06 AM. Two-pack USB-C wall chargers. Lightning cable. USB-C cable. Micro-USB cable. Sixty-eight dollars, thirty-one cents. Visa ending six-oh-three-eight. One hour since the fire. Four phones. Four red bars.

[Verse 1]

At one-oh-four the smoke alarm Woke the baby through the hall. She got out in borrowed shoes, A blue coat over all. Four phones held four red bars, Little clocks along the line. The fireman said, "Wait by the truck." The windows threw back shine.

[Pre-chorus]

Her mother called from out of state. Her sister called twice more. The oldest boy kept asking her What they were waiting for. She said, "We're waiting on the morning." Then the youngest phone went black.

[Chorus]

All the chargers in a paper bag, All the ways to make it through. A Lightning cable, USB-C, One for me and one for you. The house was still a red glass room, The street was wet with light. She bought every wire they had And carried four red bars into the night.

[Verse 2]

The clerk was counting cigarettes. The TV showed the rain. She said, "I need one for each of them." He looked at her, then rang. Two-pack USB-C wall chargers, A Lightning cable blue, A USB-C and micro-USB, All the ways a voice gets through.

[Pre-chorus]

She had soot beneath her fingernails, A number on her hand. The shelter line was busy. The motel took no cash. Her son held up his phone and said, "It says six percent, Mom."

[Chorus]

All the chargers in a paper bag, All the ways to make it through. A Lightning cable, USB-C, One for me and one for you. The house was still a red glass room, The street was wet with light. She bought every wire they had And carried four red bars into the night.

[Bridge]

They slept inside a borrowed van Behind the twenty-four-hour store. The little girl had one pink sock. The boy had found a door. Four white lights came on at once By the motel sign's blue glow. The oldest asked if it would burn. She said, "Not while I'm here."

[Final chorus]

All the chargers in a paper bag, All the ways to make it through. A Lightning cable, USB-C, One for me and one for you. The house was still a red glass room, But the morning had its light. She bought every wire they had And carried four red bars into the night.

[Outro]

Four red bars by the motel sign, Four small moons in borrowed hands. The receipt went soft inside the bag, The ink ran where the rain had ran. All the chargers, all the cords, One for me and one for you.