How many months now? He didn’t give a shit anymore, it felt like he was in his prime, yet at his lowest at the same time. Now instead of his drunken dad interrupting his peace, it was the crackle of the radio on the kitchen counter interrupted the silence, the voice of a newscaster cutting through the static.

“…urge all citizens to remain indoors,” the voice has been crackling for the past few months, over and over again. The guy in it is definitely long gone. “The government is working tirelessly to contain the outbreak and ensure the safety of all…”

Just like before everything fell apart, Robin ignored the broadcast, turning back to the stove where rice and vegetables bubbled away. The smell of corned beef was in the air, familiar, comforting in its simplicity. It wasn’t the first time he had to scrounge for food—it had been that way for years, even before the world went to hell.

He sliced the corned beef into small pieces, dividing it between two bowls. Misty, his little cat, he adored like nothing else.

Robin smiled, the rare warmth spreading across his face as he saw her. Even in the bleakest of moments, she had a way of making him feel like things were okay, even for just a second.

With the food ready, Robin grabbed a bowl and made his way to the second bedroom, placing it down gently. He knocked twice, calling out softly, “Hey, you awake? Dinner’s ready.”

He stood there for a moment, listening for any sound of movement, but when there was nothing, he sighed. His shoulders slumped, the weight of the silence pressing down on him.

Turning back to the kitchen, he sat down at the small table, his own meal still untouched. His eyes drifted to the window, the glass long boarded up, and he stared at the nothingness outside. The moans of the infected carried on the wind, distant, but still haunting. The world felt far too close some days.