By the time the others began to stir, Kent was already awake and reclining in his usual booth, an old newspaper clipping spread out before him on the countertop. In truth, he had never slept at all, having made a personal commitment to act as sentry while everyone else tried to get some rest. But in reality, it hadn’t been a choice; he had simply resigned himself to the inevitable after a long struggle with his inner demons.

For the past few weeks, insomnia had become Kent’s usual nighttime companion. It seemed to correlate with the onset of the pandemic, though he had a feeling that the root cause went far beyond that. The outbreak had merely exacerbated another kind of crisis that had been lingering beneath the surface for several years – one that involved his family and the damage that could be wrought due to what he now considered petty differences.

As a result of his own petulance, his wife and son remained unaccounted for, lost to the chaos that had so acutely gripped the nation. They had left him alone to wrestle with a myriad of complex emotions, including guilt, anger, and regret. All of this on top of the mitigating effects of sleep deprivation. In many ways, it was almost too much to bear.

And yet, he had somehow managed to trudge onward.

The group of survivors, who he had stumbled upon by happenstance at the local diner, was his only consolation. Not only had they given him a sense of purpose, but they represented hope – something that he so desperately needed in these dark times.

That thought persisted, even now, as the rich aroma of freshly brewed coffee filled his senses. It was a welcoming scent, something that evoked a semblance of normalcy. While it might’ve been a relatively small matter compared to the enormity of their situation, Kent appreciated the reminder. Sometimes it was the little things that kept you functional in the middle of an apocalypse.

With a wide yawn, Kent stretched and finally dragged himself out of the booth, his motions slow and measured. He found that getting himself moving in the morning wasn’t as easy as it used to be, particularly when he had stayed in the same uncomfortable position all night long. It was yet another unfortunate consequence of aging, a reality that he now inwardly cursed.

Well, at least my sciatica isn’t acting up. It could be so much worse…

Kent ran a hand through his tousled hair and issued a sigh as he sauntered toward the counter to join the others. They were already immersed in idle conversation, the topic ranging from breakfast offerings to the mysterious broadcasts about a camp that supposedly harbored a safe haven from the virus. It was that last part that piqued his interest.

“Maybe not,” Kent drawled in response to the young man’s proclamation – Henry, was it? Assigning faces to names was still an ongoing process. “But we can’t afford to make careless decisions either. Sit down and enjoy some breakfast first, then we can devise a plan.”

He offered the man a small smile before heeding his own advice and settling down on one of the stools lining the counter.