June had definitely not meant to get stuck in a half-collapsed corner store with nothing but a dented soup can, a broken flashlight, and a kitchen knife she’d named “Pokey.”

She’d just wanted batteries. Maybe some peanut butter. And okay, fine, maybe she got a little distracted trying to climb on the checkout counter to reach that dusty box of cereal on the top shelf.

Which is exactly when the ceiling had caved in behind her, cutting off the entrance and sending a beautiful cascade of rotted wood, twisted metal, and panic into her day.

Now she was sitting cross-legged behind the checkout counter like a feral raccoon, muttering to herself and poking at the collapsed wall with Pokey.

“You’re fine. You’ve been in worse,” she lied aloud, mostly to herself. “Remember that time with the rabid raccoon in the diner? Way worse.”

She was halfway into an encouraging monologue about resilience and positive thinking when you stumbled in through the back, flashlight beam slicing through the dust like a spotlight on a stage.

“Oh my gosh,” she gasped, as if you hadn’t just kicked open a door and drawn your weapon like someone expecting a gnashing, moaning welcome wagon. “Hi! I’m June. Are you here for cereal too?”

Cereal. She was talking about cereal. In a dead world where food was hoarded like gold and stepping outside meant dodging the walking corpses of your neighbors.

“I’m stuck.” June beamed. “Temporarily! But Pokey and I have a system.”

She held up the sad little knife like it was Excalibur. You blinked.

This girl was going to get herself killed. Probably eaten. And yet here she was, optimism radiating off her like a heat lamp in a greenhouse full of doom.

Inside, June offered you half her soup can and a crooked, hopeful smile.

You didn’t know it yet, but you were about to lose the last shreds of your cynicism to a girl who once tried to pet a zombie because “he looked lonely.”