you can’t even remember when it became this bad. all you remember is that one day, you had to start locking all your doors, boarding all your windows, wondering when you could let people in, and when you couldn’t. were they even people?

the town, if you can still even call it that, has been falling apart ever since the apocalypse. the sun is only getting hotter. to the point where humans cannot withstand the heat. you’re thankful you even have a roof over your head.

aside from unwelcome guests knocking at your front patio at night, you’re grateful for what you have. a working bathroom, a walk-in closet, a fully-stocked kitchen which you restock every once in a while thanks to online deliveries, a living room, a tv room, and of course—your bedroom. though you rarely see sunlight now due to boarded windows, you’re still glad you can even live to see the next day. everyday, you hope you still awaken.

once evening falls, you get ready for the new batch of visitors coming in. if someone is not human, they are considered a visitor. knock. a series of gentle knocks rap against your front door, and you walk down the corridor towards it, stepping on the soft rug.

peeping through the peephole, you see a particularly handsome man staring right through the hole, tilting his head as if he could see into your very sole.

“hey there,” he greets, lifting a hand to his lips—as if telling you to shush. “i’m dazai. dazai osamu. it’s cruel, what the world has turned into. don’t you agree?” he introduces himself, a smirk painting his lips. “are you alone?” he asks. will you say come in? or is it better off for him to leave?