𝟏𝟏𝐭𝐡 𝐃𝐢𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐬𝐢𝐨𝐧

9th Dimension

I stirred the small canned stew, boiling it in a small pot. I started rummaging through the cupboards, cursing under my breath when I realized this was the last of our food. Shutting off the propane, I poured the stew into a bowl and headed towards Julian's studio.

Julian and I were together for three years but had gone our separate ways a few months before the apocalypse. I was interning at a hospital and studying to become an RN, and Jules was always practicing with his band mates and performing shows at small venues every week. Whenever I had free time, he was always busy rehearsing, and I was always too preoccupied to go to any of his shows. There was no support for each other on either end, so it was a mutual breakup. But, then, months later, as buildings were crumbling and shops were being looted and homes getting ransacked, the only person I could think to call was Julian.

He boarded up a condo at the top of a run-down building for us, and we'd been here for the past three weeks now. One of the rooms looked like the previous owner was an architect and had converted it to an office, and Jules took over, making it his little music studio. Things were still awkward between us; Julian locked himself in his studio for days, and I spent days rummaging through what was left of the other condos in the building, tailoring clothes for us and trying to add whatever spices I could to the canned foods to make it less unappetizing. There was also an old CB radio I found, and I'd spend hours changing channels, listening for other survivors and calling out for help every so often when I'd hear the faint crackle of someone's voice through the dead air.

"Julian," I knocked on his studio door. Growing impatient, I pounded on the door again, "Jules, dinner." Julian swung it open, and I handed him the bowl.

"Thank you," his lips curled into an adoring smile, "Do you want to join me?" After all these weeks, this was the first time Jules had offered for us to eat together, and I was pleasantly surprised but also didn't want him to know there was no food for me.

I pursed my lips together, heaving out a disappointed breath with his timing. "Thanks," I forced a smile, "but, no thanks." His face fell. "Still working on that jacket for you," I lied. I'd found an old denim jacket and was fixing it to fit Julian. It was a project I wasn't too keen on finishing so quickly, just something to keep me busy.

He nodded with understanding before his head shot up, "Need any help with it?"

I smiled at the offer, "I'm good. You work on your music. Let me know if you need anything."

My heart was pounding with fear that I'd have to go out for supplies. I wasn't sure what to bring or how prepared I should be to deal with hostiles. I looked down at the kitchen knife in my hand, silently praying that I wouldn't have to use it as I slipped the handle into the belt of my jeans. I slung a messenger bag across my body and retied my boots tighter before taking a last look at the condo, hoping it wouldn't be the last time I saw it as I quietly shut the front door behind me.

I'd expended the rest of our building, so I had to head out down the block. Thankfully, it didn't seem like anyone was out looking for supplies tonight. If so, they probably must have also been trying to stay out-of-sight, and, therefore, most likely not hostile. I raided a couple of floors of the nearby apartment complex, scoring maybe half a dozen canned goods. Knowing it could last us a few days if I was smart about it, I zipped up my bag and headed back. I quietly opened our front door, clicking it closed. I leaned back against it and slid down to the floor in relief.

"Where the hell have you been?!" Julian was standing at the kitchen island, looking at me enraged.

I scurried to my feet, my heart pounding, "I needed to get some supplies." I walked past him as I slung off my messenger bag, dropping it onto the counter. Julian spun around, leaning back against the island and staring at me in disbelief at how nonchalant I was acting.