The men died off, long ago.
The disease came on like a cold, and lasted like that for weeks. Women flocked to the doctor’s offices, looking to get well. Men ignored their symptoms, poo-pooing any concerns, afraid to show weakness. Many died of dehydration, losing all their water to the sniffles. And then, the final stages, when they began to bleed… My own father went that way, about sixty years ago.
And that is why we roam the streets, now. All of us are old. The youngest are around seventy, but they are far from spry. I’m one of the only girls without a walker.
So now the city is full of knitting circles and baking clubs and some of us grannies are jumping off the bridge and some of us have decided to smash into eachother with cars, either in a derby or just hitting women off the sides of the street. Anarchy, everywhere. There are no more grandchildren to pander to, so no more being a sweet little old granny. Now, there is more time for gran theft auto. Anything for some excitement, before we die too,