She was surprised how quickly it all fell apart. One day you’re a functioning member of a protected and thriving society. The next, you’re filthy and covered in rags, scrounging for something, anything to eat.
Technology and hubris. She shouldn’t have been surprised.
She poked at the makeshift campfire with a twig, unbothered about attracting any unwanted attention. She hadn’t seen anyone in weeks.
She watched the crudely skinned squirrel roast over the open flame, her stomach rumbling, her mouth watering. Charred flesh of a rodent never looked so good.
And to think, nine months ago she was a vegan.
The Weekday One Hundred 