[center][url=https://www.roleplayerguild.com/posts/5321064][img]https://i.ibb.co/MMkt3Rm/0b9597e38162a72749359abbb0cf4cf7.png[/img][/url]
[color=6ecff6]Location:[/color] 13 Thurston St., Roof > Hansen Furniture Store [color=0076a3][b]|[/b][/color] [color=6ecff6]Interactions:[/color] Open [color=0076a3][b]|[/b][/color] Theme: [url=https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0rKC7ElkTUQ]We Will Become Silhouettes[/url][/center]

	When the sun hid itself over the horizon, the cage doors slammed shut and Maddox found himself trapped in close quarters with whomever he decided to hole up with on a given night.  He hated it.  Claustrophobia led to discomfort, which fed irritability.  He could be stuck with a friend and, by the time the sun returned, he could find himself hating that person, entertaining thoughts of mild violence against them.  The trick was to close your eyes, when you could, and meditate... endure.  

	As soon as the sun crept up, Maddox was outside without fail.  The thought of monstrous remnant still lingering about the neighborhood was something that concerned him far less than the enclosure.  He was fast, resourceful.  If a situation did arise with one of the creatures, he trusted he could figure a way out of it.

	This morning was no different than any other.  As soon as the sky went from black to blue, Maddox had emerged from the second story window of his home and scaled his roof, sitting at its peak and surveying as much as he could of the subdivision.  He couldn't make out the exact words being spoken, but he could hear his parents talking down below from within the boarded up house, no doubt discussing plans and chores for the day.

	His mother, bound to a wheelchair, was almost always be assigned with domestic house keeping duties and meal preparations.  His father was more the hunter/gatherer of food and supplies.  Maddox, however, usually chose to abstain from a formal role within their little tribe.  He would rather be independent and nomadic.  If he was hungry, he'd find his own food.  If he needed something, he'd find it himself or barter with someone from town.  In a world that had suddenly become very complicated, he found solace in the simplicity of being responsible only for himself.

	He softly closed his eyes and took in a long, slow breath before releasing it out of his nostrils.  The air was humid, as always, but still enriching.  One brain cell after another, Maddox's consciousness was emerging front and center as he allowed himself to fully wake up and meet the day.

	After a few moments more, he pulled himself to his feet and traversed the house before exiting out of the garage.  Now with a bicycle in tow, he pulled the garage door shut and hopped on.  This was one of the more exciting parts of his daytime activities: The headcount.  It was time to ride into town to see who all survived.  A lot of people were taking shelter in the local church and within some stores.  Those would be his first stops.

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"[color=6ecff6]Bring out your dead![/color]" Maddox called out, comically quoting a [url=https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=QcbR1J_4ICg]Monty Python[/url] sketch while pumping his pedals.  It wasn't the first time he had done this and, yet, he was just as elated with his own wit as if it were.  Hensen Furniture store was starting to come into view so he repeated himself, even louder, with a crooked grin plastered on his face.  "[color=6ecff6]BRING OUT YOUR DEAD![/color]"  

As people were beginning to venture outside, he braked the bike and straddled it, propping his elbows up on the handlebars as he cradled his chin in his hands, attempting to look adorable as one would on a school picture day. "[color=6ecff6]Good morning,[/color]" he started with a bit of cheer.  "[color=6ecff6]Did the portions of rations get bigger overnight?[/color]"  An insensitive way of asking if there were less mouths to feed now.