leaning

It had bee okay when she had had her stories: someone to listen to, something to think about… anything to keep her occupied. At the very least some background noise. Now ther was nothing. No radio, no TV; just the hum of static.

How long had it been now? Two weeks? A month..? It was hard to keep track of days now she had no real reference. She just sat inside staring at the box of nothing — they must have broken the ariel or something — now all she had were old LPs and a few books she had read too many times twenty years ago.

It was getting desperate, not just for things to do, but food too. Since the war she had kept a good supply of tinned goods. Great for emergencies and incredibly handy to have since the deliverymen stopped dropping of her groceries. But now it was getting thin…

She wasn’t looking forward to going outside, to getting to the shop. Things had quietened down for sure in the past few weeks; seems like they had got everything they could from out here, taken it wherever they were taking things. But still she knew some of them were out there, and who knows what they were capable of these days?

After the noise, the screaming, the ripping and crashing. After all of that she didn’t expect much. All she could hope was that the road to the shop was clear. That ther ewouldn’t be too much bother.

Was that too much to ask?