Short Stories | After Atlanta: Ch. 2
A collection of post-apocalyptic stories inspired by my abstract drawings and images.

After Atlanta is a compilation of short stories based in a post-apocalyptic timeline where art is drawn first by me and then a story or scenario is created after to fit the imagery.
It’s almost funny. I really thought things would get better, that somehow all of this would bring us together.
It didn’t.
The problems in our marriage didn’t magically end when the gas stations closed, and the cattle ranches ran out of cattle to slaughter for even themselves.
Our world was starving of, well, a lot of things. Fuel. Food. Fuckin water. The lack of care, carefulness, that was around before.
And I think I hate my wife, and I think she hates me too.
But you don’t really get divorced in times like these.
I’m sure everyone in history has said that in times like these. Divorce is a luxury of good times. It’s a luxury of having other options. I remember when other options meant who I was going to fuck next, but now “another option” is who’s going to find firewood for tonight if not her.
We said we’d give it a week here and move on after that. I thought we were talking about a former friend’s house we “occupied”, but I think we were talking about a fight. I’m not sure anymore. I do know though, that it was more than a week and we haven’t moved on.
It’s been 37 weeks actually. I know this because every god damn week she strikes another tally mark on the east wall. Almost as an attempt to spite me and my broken promises. But we’ve had chances to leave, I’ve even packed up our essentials and offered to leave a few choice times.
She wanted to stay.
But now that the days keep getting shorter, and winter comes closer, she wants to leave. But even when she wants to stay, she marks another tally hash on the wall. Sometimes I think she does it to spite herself. But I stopped trying to figure out what the she thinks a while ago.
Maybe that’s when things got worse, or maybe that’s when they got as good as they were going to get.
Ya know we had friends here too at one point. They went off a few months ago to check on the next town over. Well, that’s what they said. They haven’t come back. That’s not unheard of though, the world ain’t what it used to be. Or maybe it’s just finally showing it’s teeth again.
Either way, they didnt come back, and if it was their choice not to, I don’t blame them.
Seems lately my walks “to catch some air” get longer and longer, even though I really should be saving these shoes for the long walk over the mountains after the winter. They’re my last pair.
I think I’m on a lot of last pairs. Jesus, the winter isn’t even fuckin’ here yet and I’m already … I’m just already … well, I’m …
I don’t know. I just didn’t realize so much of this counted before it did.
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