It was brighter here than it was when I was a child. To bright, in fact. It was hard to see, and anything that I could see was dull, the colors having been leached away by the sun and age.

   After years being away, nothing looked the same. All the houses, now long abandoned, were a mix of ugly, faded grays, yellows, and whites, and most were collapsing. Truthfully though, I was surprised anything was left at all.
   I gently trailed my hand across the door of what I had once called home. Although the roof of the once soft blue house was collapsed, and the upper left wall was missing, the door seemed to be in good condition though. I kinda wanted to laugh.
   I remember the last time I left through this door. My parents had rushed both my younger brother and myself out of it, sirens wailing in the background. I had just turned twelve, Samuel, Sam, was only six. We were both so confused. People kept saying everything was getting better, that our little town would never even see any of the chaos that had torn through so much of our country. Yet here I am, standing in the ruins of my childhood home. We had been sorely mistaken.
   I was tempted to open the door, see what the inside looked like. Would there still be family photos on the walls that no one managed to grab? Would Sam’s stuffed dog still be on one of the kitchen chairs? Would everything inside be as washed out as everything outside?
   My hand was on the doorknob know, I had nothing left of my family now, my brother died two years after we left. He wasn’t killed, wasn’t slaughtered, like so many others were, it was a sickness that got to him. Soon after that, I was separated from my parents. I haven’t seen them in almost ten years now. I imagine that they are dead, but I have no actual proof, but it’s easier to think they are dead.
   My head suddenly whipped to the side, there was a soft whimper from somewhere for just a second.
   There! Again, across the street, the turned over trash can. I slowly made my way across the road, you couldn’t afford to not be cautious anymore. Any mistake may very well be your last.
   My eye’s widened once I could fully see what was in the bin. It was a dog. It was on the smaller side, with short fur, and it just looked absolutely pitiful. It was probably sick, too. I couldn’t help but wonder how it was still alive. I reached into my bag slowly, I didn’t want to frighten it more than it already was, and groped around until I heard the wrinkle of a mostly empty bag of jerky I had salvaged just days before. 
   I whispered and cooed in what I hoped was a soothing manner towards the dog, a small piece of jerky in my outstretched hand. I was probably crouched there for ten minutes, I even contemplated giving up, before the dog came out, walking hesitantly towards me. I gently praised the small dog and softly pat at it’s side while it chewed.I wonder if I’ve found myself a companion. I have been alone for so long.