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  • Writer's pictureJames Kidac


In the end it was hopeless to wait for the ship. The threat of virus was dissipating but she wasn't to be found. The pressing matter was to always gather food and lodging in nearby caverns and abandonments. It was a sorrowful first few days, then when reality hit, it was time to move forward. Leaving the carpark vicinity was a foreign feeling, even if it wasn't supposed to be home. The plan now was to go back to the shack I call home and get my things, as well as the yellow stuff toy she left behind in absentia. Something we had forgot, but always loved.

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