2,763 days since the end of society. 7 years of not knowing when the next major crisis would happen. The Catastrophe was unpredictable like that. Now, it was cold, but who knows what would be next.

Flower was bundled in her thick, heavy coat. She warmed her hands over the embers of a slowly dying campfire. Flower’s fingers idly picked at the pull tab on a can of food. She didn’t want to chip the polish on her nails. Ruby had done them. Who knows when, or…if she’d do them again.

“…where are you…?”

She mumbled, looking at a photo of herself, Ruby, and Lollipop pinned to the inside of her coat.