Stories In A Lost World: Bridget - Plot & Excerpts
There are three of them, all worn out and beaten up. Just like us. Three composition notebooks that would have once been used to take notes on subjects no one cares about, but now they're ours. I don't really feel like writing. Even before the plague, before the infection, writing was never my thing. Before the world went to hell in a hand basket and came back as cannibals, I didn't like to write. Unfortunately for me, there's nothing else to do in this dead world, so here I am. It's been about a month since the infection started, give or take. A month of living in our tiny little house, eating canned chili, and playing board games that we're now completely sick of. A month. I don't even know what to say about all that. Our day-to-day is boring and pointless. We're all just sitting around waiting to die. Worst of all is that we know it. Before everyone got sick, I was studying to be a teacher.
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