journal_day27.txt

Temp 28.

Air quality MODERATE. As good as it's been.

I've been preparing. Reading the exit protocols. Wrapping myself in every blanket from both bedrooms. Torn up one of the decorative pillow cases to wrap around my hands. Using another pillowcase as a scarf.

I look ridiculous. But I don't care.

My hands are shaking. Don't know if it's fear or hunger or cold already and I'm still inside.

I keep thinking about my brother's barbecue. The one I skipped. He was grilling ribs. His kids were in the pool. His wife made potato salad.

I wonder if they made it anywhere safe. I wonder if there was anywhere safe.

I wonder if I'll find my truck.

journal_day28.txt