Making the Best of the Post Apocalypse

October 23, 20XX

The zombies came for us again last night. Scratching and pleading for brains at the door, they persisted until five in the morning. About that time we heard a truck driving down the access road. I was confused and then elated at the prospect of more living people this far north. She was terrified and angry.

To her, more people meant more feelings.

"I only have room in my heart for you now," she'd said, after all of our folks went missing.

She had never been the same after that. Honestly I hadn't either. I'd made the best of the post apocalypse, but that's not saying much.