Home.
He finally reached the front door of his house, but paused before going in. A deep breath, one last look over his shoulder at the devastated world, then he went inside. There was no one else there: he could tell from the way the alarm had been set and from the gaps on the pegs where Mom and Dad’s coats would have been hanging. The silence inside his home was as ominous as the lack of noise outside, but fractionally less intimidating. At least for now, this place still felt like it used to.
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Another endless night followed; hours spent staring into space, looking for answers he was beginning to think he’d never find, imagining the fates of the people he loved and trying to block out the pain they must have felt when they’d died, trying to suppress his guilt at not going out and loo
