Feels like a Sunday

“What day is it?”  Erik sat in a grey plastic chair between the first and second checkout lanes.  He placed the jug of water on the right lanes and had several cans of food on the right.  He grabbed a can opener and a can of beans.  His hangover began to pass near mid-day.  The can of beans would be iffy on an unsettle stomach.

Erik looked up at the noon sky through the dirty window.  Several bodies milled around outside.  Unlike earlier in the morning Erik could make out that these bodies were aimless, likely zombies.  Erik drunk a swallow of the water as he finished the beans.  His stomach rumbled but Erik stood his ground.  “It feels like a Sunday.”

Erik stands.  His head swims.  He turns and searches the checkout for a cloth or paper towel.  He finds a dirty roll of paper towels.  He grabs a…