30 Days of Fiction, Day #6: Viruses Don't Mean Anything Until They Mean Everything
After the virus, we nailed the doors shut and waited. Once, we pulled aside the wool blankets we'd hung over the windows, and across the street, they were breaking down the Havvington's door. Eventually, the TV stopped working, and the internet went dead, leaving us with no idea as to what was happening, other than what we could imagine in our heads. We retreated to the basement and played games that involved counting and recounting rations. Sometimes, late at night, the dog growled at shapes moving past like shades, and we petted him until he stopped.
Time: 15 minutes
Word count: 96