It's been 216 days since the world ended and I miss you.
I love you so much. I miss you so much. I miss waking up to see you. I miss the way you smelled, I miss your touch, I miss the way you walk, how in those cold mornings you would hop out of bed, trying not to touch the wooden floor with your bare feet, whispering about how cold it was.
In the mornings now, I open my eyes and I don't want to wake up. I want to stay in bed all day. I want to dream about you. I miss you so much.
I started driving to work this morning and I came across a section of the city that had been claimed by the woods. Some men were sectioning it off with road blocks. I stopped and asked them when it happened.
"Just last night," one of them said. "The trees sprouted up within hours. I think we got everyone out in time."
Behind him, I could see the trees, their black leaves reaching up towards the sky. Were they somehow related to the black flowers? The house we found wasn't in one of the sections claimed by the woods. It was in one of the normal streets. But perhaps that's how it starts. Black flowers lead to black trees. Perhaps there are black roots underground that stretch beneath the city, waiting to climb upward and drag us all down.
I turned the car around and found another way to work.
It's been 216 days since the world ended and I miss you.
