Write about: the scavenger.
Mine may or may not have been written shortly after the Canucks game came to an end at work this evening. I'm not sure if my brimming optimism comes through strongly enough in my piece for that to be obvious.
Made a tiny dent in the comment backlog this morning. Will try to get more done tomorrow.
Grey skies overhead, bitter winds clawing their way through streets littered with abandoned cars and shattered glass. Buildings painted with black scorch marks, caved in roofs pushing relentlessly downward.
He moves slowly, head down and hood up. His jeans are worn and dotted with holes, his sweater too thin. A faded backpack clings to one shoulder, dangerously empty.
Each car, each shop is inspected in due course. The bag gains little weight - a bent spoon here, a coat hanger there, two pens. No clothes. No food. No water.
This cannot last much longer.
He continues on.