>Anon quickly holstered his gun and looked around before pulling her in.
>Adelaide’s legs gave up, and she fell to her knees.
>”Crap, sorry,” said Anon, pulling her up by the shoulders, with Adelaide wrapping her arms around his.
>He sat her on the couch adjacent to the front door, jerking slightly when her cold nose brushed against his neck.
>”Anon, my gun’s on the porch steps.”
>He tried to step away, but her arms wouldn’t let go of him. She sniffled. “Just- stay here for a moment.”
>Tears ran down the back of Anon’s shirt.
>He shut the door with his foot, and hugged her tight, sitting next to her.
>Adelaide sobbed, wiping her eyes on his shoulder. “I’m just really glad you’re still here.”
>Her nails dug into the back of his head.
>He didn’t let go until she stopped crying.
>Anon stood up and took the rifle inside, resting it against the wall, and next to the corkboard.
>”You good?” He asked.
>Adelaide looked up at him with puffy eyes, wiping a tear and nodding with a quiet ‘mhm’. “I thought you left the state.”
>”There’s nowhere to go anyways. The whole country’s like this. ”
>”Right, right. What’ve you been doing this entire time?”
>Anon looks at the corkboard. Pictures of various people and factions vying for control over Florida are connected with red string in no coherent order.
>”This, pretty much, and looking after my mom.”
>”What happened to her?”
>”My mom got sick with COVID. She already recovered, but she needs to stay quarantined for at least another two weeks so we don’t catch it.”
>”What about your dad?”
>”He’s out patrolling with the local militia. He does that when he’s not working. I wanted to go with him, you know, do something, but he said I was better off being the man of the house while he was gone. That, and my mom got sick.”
>”I assume that vest is his.”
>”Yeah, the gun too.”