Freewrite Day 409: Quarantine
The door was still locked. He'd lost track of the days and how many times he'd tried to open it.
Pounding on the door received no response. He'd screamed so loud he no longer could speak. There were no windows to let him see what was going on outside, or even what time of day it was.
He scratched his itchy, greasy head with dry cracked hands. His brown hair stuck to his scalp and his scruff had turned to beard.
Standing in the small kitchen he opened all the cabinets and sorted through the fridge. He didn't have much food left. If no one opened the door his quarantine would be come a death trap. But then, maybe that's why no one ever came. Maybe he was the only one left, safe on the inside while the world outside died.
Looking at the spoiled milk, he wasn't sure he cared anymore.
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Very nice story. I really felt locked in that room with him. The spoiled milk was a nice ending.
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