Connie glances at the sky, feeling tired. She’s tired of a lot of things. Freedom and M3, all they did to try and save the world, it’s all a waste. It’s raining again.

It’s done that a lot lately. Apparently a world flooded with poison still has normal weather, or, semi normal.

Droplets fall on her cheek, and she’s tempted to take off her mask and breathe in the scent. She can’t though. She knows this. She doesn’t know why the one person with an immunity to the poison is also the one person who doesn’t have any idea how to save the world.

She hasn’t felt joy in a long time. Adrenaline, excitement, curiosity, wonder even, but not joy.

Maybe joy doesn’t exist in this world anymore. Maybe everyone who felt it is dead and whoever’s left is just trying to survive.

Maybe she’s the only person left in the entire world.

It’s easy to think this, on cloudy days like this. She feels a hole in her chest, yet the lack of space is so heavy.

Still, even after all the loss and sorrow and weight of it all, she walks on.

Her friends are waiting for her back at home.