It has been 639 days since I last saw another human. I know this to be true because each day I add another hash mark to a notebook I keep in my pocket using a small stub of pencil to mark off each day.
I should rephrase that actually. It has been 639 days since I last saw another living person. I have seen her in that time though, every time I close my eyes in fact, but it makes sense that I would. She was my entire world up until the day I woke and there was no world to speak of.
Sometimes I think that without her calming presence in the night, I would have been driven mad by now, my sanity slowly stolen away by the solitude that surrounds me. But like a beacon in the dark, she is there pulling me back.
I spend my days wandering these deserted streets and buildings, foraging for food, seeking out reminders of the way things used to be. I long ago abandoned ties to my old life because that well of grief ran far too deep, but examining the photos and mementos of others does offer some peace, a glimpse into the ways we use to be.
What happened, exactly, remains a mystery, but it is one I can live with for now. There is actually something soothing about being in a world of silence where only the breeze rustling through the trees disturbs the stillness. There is something primitive and welcome in watching nature slowly reclaim its kingdom.
In the times where the loneliness does grow and conspire against me, I find a quiet place to lay and seek out sleep. Inevitably, she is there waiting for me. Her kind words reign me in and her soft touch puts me to rest.
I am grateful that she alone saw fit not to abandon me in this wasteland.
She is, and always will be, the world to me.
A deafening crash surrounds me and for a brief moment I panic, only to realize that it was just a tree collapsing onto the nearby hospital.
For now, I remain alone.
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