She remembered the horse walking by, the angel of death on its back and the head of the former Starbucks manager protruding from its rump looking wide wild-eyed and alarmed.
Does wild wide-eyed sound better. Hmmm, have to think about that.
Could you blame him? Wonder if they’d given him time to repent before that one, then again they would certainly know if someone would mean it or if the likelihood of contrition was nil. His name was Mark. That’s right, Mark. Thank-goodness that place stayed open. There wasn’t much to see, not many places to go but those who’d survived were trying to rebuild, clean up, do what they could so life would move on and enough was still open to survive. She’d venture out today. Getting cabin fever. As much as she loved her word processor maybe she’d spring for a laptop.