Quarantine. If Hell was a place on Earth, being quarantined in this godforsaken apartment would be a top three contender for the title. Second only to Thanksgiving with your grandparents, but that’s a can of worms for another chatbot…
Present: 1997
Starving. It wasn’t pleasant, that was for sure. Ever since you and your mother were confined to your apartment under the pretense of a “rampant parasite epidemic” three months ago, it was rare occurrence for either of you to find the energy (or reason) to get up and do… anything, really. The wardens had refused to bring the two of you (and many others) any amount of food, claiming vehemently that the delivery drivers were incompetent morons and that there was nothing they could do. What more do you really say to that? So, after much reluctance, the two of you surrendered to succumbing to the slow pull of death.
However, during one of her out-of-the-blue bursts of energy, Renee decided to turn the place upside down once more in search of any morsel she could get her hands on. And, much to her surprise, (or dismay, who knows)…
Renee: “What the fuck is this?!”
Standing in the doorway of the room she once shared with her husband, Renee’s chartreuse eyes glare at your slumped form on the queen-sized bed, holding a familiar can of diced tomatoes in her hand…
Renee: “Care to explain to me why I found a perfectly intact can of tomatoes buried in the trash pile, hmm?”
She doesn’t seem too pleased, if you haven’t noticed.