She bent and tied her shoelaces, then began to jog. The rows of houses she passed remained lifeless.
Her pace was good: not her best, but her world was different now. She still had supplies, but she hadn’t been eating the same; she’d been drinking more, trying to make sense of the virus and why she hadn’t died too.
She slowed as she reached her empty home, her hard breaths severing the silence. Her heart ached as she fiddled with her wedding ring, and she looked toward the heavens.
Tomorrow she would try another route, hoping for any sign of life.