She was standing on the pavement, vermin fleeing as she toyed with her wooden bat. It was quiet, but that wasn’t a good or a bad thing. Nope. Quiet just existed, only to be reinterpreted in moments of reflection on that never-ending lonely road.
A gutted store squatted up ahead, but she didn’t look away at the shadows or the hurtful things they were doing. Things were being eaten in there. Or maimed. Or something violent was happening to them.
The prospect of groceries inside made her mouth moist, but the thought of syringes dried it up again. The vaccine always came first. It had to. A couple hours without, and it was game over. Food always had to come second.
She was a gaunt person that scavenged the landscape for syringes. There was no lust for twinkies anymore.
Sleep was in her daydreams. At least, it had been to the best of her recollection.