Issa's Story - First Night

"Two children met on the edge of a desert. The boy wanted to prove his strength by crossing the scalding sands, and the girl was running away from an abusive home. At first he didn't want to travel with her, because the whole point of his journey was self-sufficiency. But for two days and two nights she followed him, telling him stories about a shining city by the sea, where ordinary people rode kites on hurricane winds and swam through whirlpools. By the end of the second day the boy was fascinated and the girl was exhausted - her food and water had run out on the first night, and her shoes had been lost in the dunes so that her feet were covered in burns and blisters. She continued her stories until she collapsed, and then the boy lifted her in his arms. For two days and two nights he carried her, carefully feeding her and giving her water, and telling her stories about the shining city where little girls were princesses who ate delicious food every day and were carried around on their fathers' shoulders."
Issa paused, poking her finger into the wax drips that were pooling on the tabletop. It was still very hot, but she didn't seem to notice.
"And on the fifth day?" Mally asked. Issa smiled sadly.
"On the fifth day the boy ran out of water, too. He kept carrying the girl for as long as he could, until he too collapsed from exhaustion. They tumbled down the side of the sand dune and landed in a tangled mess of arms and legs in a valley so deep that it was shaded even in the middle of the day. He looked up at the sides and knew that he wouldn't be able to climb back up them. He looked at the girl and saw that she was awake, watching him but too weak to move. Carefully he untangled himself and tried to gently move her until she could lie comfortably. He took off his shirt and bundled it up under her head like a pillow. She was delirious from the heat and dehydration, and she believed him when he said they were almost at the city, and she died, smiling, at his side."
"The boy?" Mally said, though she already suspected the answer.
"He died, too, scared and alone. He was racked with guilt for allowing the girl to follow him into the desert, and for his own stupidity in coming out there at all. He had never suspected that he would fail."
"That's not a very nice story," Mally accused.
"I know." Issa's voice was filled with melancholy, and Mally could feel a mournful mood settling over them both. The words had been like a kind of spell, but the ending had shocked her. It was like drinking a cup of coffee in one gulp before you realised that the milk was bad - the pleasant expectation had been rudely destroyed.
"Why wouldn't you let them make it out of the desert?" She complained.
"I don't know. That's not the way the story goes."
"It's your story! You get to pick how it goes."
Issa shrugged.
"You'd be surprised," she said.