From Azalea

Day 2

Day 2:

When Grant woke up, his stomach, growled? His abdomen area had this sort of ache, one he had never felt before. When your stomach growls is it supposed to mean anything? Grant ignored it for a bit and went to his computer, forgetting that Azalea’s virus had affected everything.

He went to his bedroom window and glanced out. There was something moving. Two children, most likely still in primary school,  were racing across the front lawn. There were smiles on their faces, big, wide, happy ones. Grant couldn’t help, but smile himself.

The ache in his stomach had grown. He decided he needed breakfast. It was later than he normally ate. He was about to order via text, but remembered Azalea had turned that function off too. He had to go down stairs again to the food cabinet. He pulled out the bread. “Where is the toaster?” He spoke to himself, just as he spotted something that it could be. Grant slid one of the pieces in as a test and pushed the lever down. Coils on the inside of the contraption glowed red-orange. The bread shot up when it was done, hitting Grant in the face, scaring him. The bread was a golden brown. He nibbled a piece. It was good and crunchy. The ache in his stomach faded as he devoured two more pieces. He wandered the strange place he called home. It was foreign to him, unnervingly so.

He heard a scream from upstairs. “Who’s there?” Grant yelled in a raspy voice he wasn’t to used to.

There was no response.

Grant backed toward the door to outside. “Who’s there?” he yelled again. His hand rested on the doorknob and slowly turned it and let the door come open.

Bright rays danced down from the sun into the light deprived house. Once he was outside in the full light, his fear that had been haunting him disappeared. The children were no longer there, but they were right, the sun felt wonderful.

He saw a curtain move in the house across the street. He waved. His house was one of many identical homes with perfectly manicured lawns. Grant walked down the sidewalk and up to a random house’s front door. He took a deep, nervous breath and rang the doorbell. He could hear a resounding echo of the electronic bell inside the house, then footsteps. The door separated itself from the frame a crack.

“What?”

“Hi, I’m―”

“I don’t want any. Go away.” The door was slammed in Grant’s face.