48
Peter
I drive Sara to her office and leave the car with her, so she can go to the clinic after work as planned. It’s only a ten-minute walk from her office to her apartment building, and the grocery store is on the way, so I stop by and load up on the basics for tonight’s dinner. It’s not a lot, only what I can easily carry in one hand—I like my gun hand always free—and I make a mental note that we’ll need a second car, just like everyone in the suburbs.
That’s not the only thing we’ll need, either. The fridge in Sara’s tiny kitchen is only a meter tall, and the kitchen itself is barely usable. I spent my formative years in a freezing, crumbling cell in Siberia, so I’m not picky about living quarters, but I see no reason for us to continue with an apartment that was clearly designed
