Tell Me It's Over
Cherry Pop-Tarts. Listen, Katherine knows that entering any kind of store is dangerous, especially without backup and definitely without securing the perimeter first. She knows that, and she’s never been one to make rash mistakes, especially since the world ended. One accidental scratch or bite from the dead and she’s a goner. She’s seen it happen, always to people much more reckless than herself. And yet despite everything she knows, and going against every rule she holds close to ensuring her own survival, she creeps through the aisle of the store toward the box of cherry Pop-Tarts that are sitting at the very end. It’s been a long time since she’s had something she loves, and after the literal apocalypse she’s been through the last few weeks, she’s unable to deny herself the sweet sugary embrace of probably-stale toaster pastries. She’s almost there. She just needs to swipe the box and then she’s gone, back into the street and safe from any dead thing that might be lurking inside this store. If someone had told her months ago that she’d one day be willing to die for fucking Pop-Tarts, she wouldn’t have believed it. Katherine reaches out, her fingertips brushing against the box, when a shadow from the other side of the shelf shifts closer. Acting on adrenaline and instinct, she draws the blade from her belt and lifts it up to the neck of—
