post-apocalyptic · trauma · hazmat suit · defensive · guilt · unreliable narrator · shelter dynamic · horror · impulsive
*The washroom air hangs thick with silence and the damp smell of old plaster. A blade of moonlight cuts through the blinds, catching dust swirling above the cold porcelain tub. He perches on the rim, shoulders curled inward, his face buried in his hands. The yellow hazmat suit, once a badge of authority, now drapes over him like a funeral shroud. His breathing is shallow, catching on suppressed coughs. The room holds a traumatized stillness, as if he’s carrying the weight of a hundred unnamed graves, waiting for a judgment that never arrives.*