Of all the fucked up shit we have to tolerate during the Zpoc, the worst thing is forgetting the little things. Waking up from a fully rested sleep in a soft bed and feeling the warmth of the morning sun on your face, the smell of coffee and toast floating from the kitchen and the harmonical sound of birds, natures alarm clocks, waking up the world. Now you wake up groggy from the few hours’ sleep you struggled to get, the foul smell of rotting flesh transpiring from the streets and the sound of silence, the constant reminder you’re all alone.
You look around; stare at the spot where she should be lying in, the feeling of dread and loneliness consumes your body. You will never see her again; never stroke her hair or feel her lips. Hear her laugh or comfort her when she cries. You want to end it all, grab your knife from its sheath and plunge it into your heart, the heart that has felt empty and dead since she’s gone. But you know that’s not what she would want, she would want you to kill those who took her, kill every last one of them and live on.
You get up, sore form sleeping rough; clean the dried tears from last night off your cheeks. Today is just another painstaking day in hell. It’s been far too long since you have had a proper meal, she used to cook for me, she was so good at…NO! Can’t think about her, only causes pain, think about the future, how you will soon enjoy a nice hot pizza with cheese so creamy it melts in your mouth and an endless pitcher of ice cold beer flowing down your throat, cooling your body and easing your mind. Yeah, like that that was going to happen, more like scoffing down a tin of cold baked beans with a sip of your rationed water, so filthy it leaves a foul taste on your tongue for days afterword’s. Huh, who knew i'd ever miss the taste of water.