[u][b]Kyle Moore
35 days after the Outbreak
11:00 AM[/b][/u]

The sound of a knife and fork clattering rang out in the small, neat bedroom of Kyle Moore. The plate was licked completely clean, the teen not wanting to waste any of his food; Out of necessity and also out of remembrance. [i]"Don't leave anything on the plate, Kyle. Wasted food is wasted money."[/i] His father had told him many years ago.

He'd taken to his daily routine again (outside kf talking to his mother and going to school). It kept him sane, trying to act [i]normal.[/i] He kept the house clean, read books, cooked food...

He didn't think about her absence much. She'd come back, when this mess was over and everyone was saved. And if she didn't, he'd find her.

But even if he was hopeful, Kyle knew his supplies wouldn't last forever. After snapping out of his reverie, he had walked down the stairs, the windows covered by curtains (and where there were no curtains, he used shower robes,) and stepped into the kitchen.

He'd eaten the last of his supplies today. That meant he finally had to go out. He'd dreaded the day that this would happen, but it'd come eventually. No amounts of hopeful thinking was going to stall it. After washing the dishes and cutlery and brushing his teeth at the kitchen sink, he slung his pouch over his shoulder and picked up the rusty shovel near the door.

After checking the doors windows, Kyle stepped out. And the sight that greeted him scared him more than the creatures did.

A desolate street, with blood on the sidewalks and a kicked over garbage can. Other than those details, and some broken windows, everything looked...Normal. It both comforted and terrified him.

A gentle breeze passed by him, unhindered by the destruction and pushed Kyle out of his stupor. He gripped his shovel tighter and started walking to a nearby convenience store.