It was weeks. No. Months. Months since the last tortured screams were heard in the streets. Eddie had holed up in his apartment, hoping to avoid whatever was out there. Through a tiny sliver of daylight, he glimpsed the hell that lay outside. It wasn’t pretty.
Not until his cupboards were bone dry did he dare to go outside. But finally, with much trepidation, armed with a golf club and bated breath, Eddie moved cautiously up to the sidewalk from his basement brownstone. As he reached ground level, his mouth gaped open. He realized that it was far worse than what he’d imagined. There were quick-stepping suits, heels, briefcases, clutched-coffees, all surrounding that familiar look of dread. It was Monday morning.