to whom the world forgot

the world ended quietly.
no grand explosions. no heroes. just rot, silence and the sound of bones remembering what it meant to walk again.

el and lune were never supposed to be friends. and they were never supposed to survive this long.
now with the dead rising and the living tearing each other apart el writes letters to a woman she hasnt seen in months-maybe years. Maybe shes already gone. maybe shes something else entirely. but el keeps writing because memory is the only thing the plague hasnt taken from her yet.

each letter peels back the past-what they had, what they lost and what haunts them still.

even at the end of the world some promises are too painful to forget.