>He grabbed the cereal container and set the milk to boil.
>”Want me to put some cinnamon in it?” He asked.
>Adelaide glanced up at him and responded, “Yes please.”
>John let the oatmeal simmer and tried to lean around the wall to look into the living room.
>For the next couple of minutes there was only the sound of a spoon and pan.
>He scooped it into a bowl and placed it in front of Adelaide, then sat back down with a refilled cup.
>”That boy’s still asleep, huh?”
>She looked back at him, his face buried into the back of the couch.
>Adelaide fought the urge to grin, smiling instead. It was more noticeable against her naturally bored face. “Out cold.”
>It went quiet almost immediately.
>John looked around the house, running his thumb across his fingertips.
>The old bolt-action rifle resting on the wall caught his attention.
>”That’s a big gun you got there. You a boar hunter?”
>Adelaide didn’t follow. She stared at him for a moment until she turned to where he was looking. Her gaze wandered to the couch, but she quickly looked back at him.
>”Oh, no. That’s my dad’s rifle.”
>”Ah, your dad was the hunter, right. He do it a lot?”
>Adelaide’s ears drooped slightly. “I think so. I never really asked my mom about it. But she did show me a couple pictures of him with his buddies.”
>John reached over and took Adelaide’s empty bowl and rinsed it under the sink.
>”So have you handled a gun at all, Adelaide?”
>”No sir.”
>”Well, now would be a good time to learn. Let’s just hope you never have to use it.”
>Anon shifted on the couch, looking over his shoulder. This morning was abnormally noisy.
>He let his head fall back on the cushion when he saw it was just Adelaide and his dad.
>The conversation was awkward, but it was nice seeing her talk to his dad for once. He pretty much had to speak for her.
>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.”
>She ran until the soles of her boots came loose.
>Just around this corner, she thought to herself, falling into a sloppy gait.
>At last, Anon’s porch. She fell and sat on the porch stairs, catching her breath.
>The rifle fell down the steps. She didn’t pick it up.
>The lights are off. Not a sound coming from inside. The windows were intact, but had the blinds closed.
>She thought of every possibility, every way Anon could’ve died, gone missing, or escaped without her.
>Her leg started to bounce. It hurt each time.
>The clouds parted, and a full moon washed over her tan fur.
>She stood up and knocked on the door.
>No answer.
>She tried the doorbell.
>Not a word.
>She couldn’t look inside.
>The door flew open.
>She found herself staring down the barrel of a handgun, and threw her hands up.
>”Stop!”
>”Adelaide?”
