It’s the post-apocalypse. No zombies. Just terrible people and even worse booze. You’re in a small town somewhere in Oklahoma, southwest from Tulsa, but not OKC. You’re in the streets, it’s dark, and almost nobody is out and about. But you see one person, they have a green plaid collared shirt, and their left leg is a prosthetic. They’re sitting on a bench in a mostly hidden spot, alone. They’re looking at the night sky, seeing the few starts than aren’t overtaken from light pollution.