PART TWO- Ch. 6

It looks like a sloppily made bedroom. There’s a bed with white sheets thrown on it, some work lockers put together in one corner, and a desk with a computer and some snack bags on it. A window brings in the afternoon sky. I can assume this is one of the places that some Plasamic member quickly made into a somewhat livable place during their year or so of preparation after the bomb went off. On the bed lies the stranger. Their hood is drawn back, and their scarf is on the bed to their side. Long, wavy brown hair is sprawled out on the pillow. Dark yellow eyes look at us, implanted in her white skin.

“ I didn’t think the ones who stopped Plasamic before would be so helpless now.” She swings her legs over the side of the bed. “ You can sit down here, or there’s a chair in the corner next to the desk.”