Day 280 since nuclear fallout. Diary entry number 174. Time 3:02 PM. Temperature 55 degrees Fahrenheit.
In just 90 days, I will have been on my own for a year. For a fucking year. This thought blows my mind. From where I was to where I am.
King sized bed, loving wife. Twenty-eight years old. Everything seemed perfect. Everything seemed going to plan.
Seemed, being the key word.
The day the bombs hit was just like any other. Sunny, warm, birds singing. Then the mushroom cloud appeared in the distance.
And then another.
And then the force of a DF-31 scattered the landscape. Trees falling. Sun blocked out.
The last thing I remember before I blacked out was holding my wife tight.
I haven't seen anyone I know since 281 days ago.