Day 203 since nuclear fallout. Diary entry number 148. Time 1:34 PM. Temperature 92 degrees Fahrenheit.

Two hundred and three days of wondering has lead me to my goal. My one place I knew if I reached, I would be alright. As I write these words, I am sitting on a sandy beach, in front of the Atlantic ocean. The key to the world. Rumor has it, boats travel the coast just looking for survivors.

Maybe I am one the survivors. Maybe they will see me. Pick me up. Tell me this is all a dream. Maybe they will bring me back to 2393 Wood Crest Road. To my king sized bed. To my loving wife.

And maybe I’m just beginning to lose my mind.

Maybe I’m not a survivor.

Just a walking casualty.