Errol is dead. And I am getting groceries.

Today isn't different from any other day I spend in the grocery store, other than Errol is not with me and that is because Errol is dead. I keep hoping he isn't, listening for his steps on the floor behind me or anticipating his touch against my hand. I wake up and hope that this, all of it, has only been a bad dream.

I stepped over a fallen support beam, glancing at the ceiling. The grocery store wasn't horribly damaged, but I knew I should be more cautious. I needed to push Errol away and focus on keeping myself safe.

I pictured myself in a swelling sea. I was the only one in the boat. Alone. I had been alone for a very long time but I had felt less alone with Errol. Now Errol was dead and the waves threatened to drag me under, to suffocate me with inky hands and to shatter my chest with their pounding fists. But not today. Today I built a plastic box around myself so that when the waves crashed against me, I would be in my box. I would be safe.

Much of the food was already missing. I wish I could tell a nice story about how my mother used to take me to pristine grocery stores and we used to meet a "cashier", who we'd give pieces of paper in exchange for food. I can't, though. I have no memories of that ever happening.

By the time I came around, all of that was long gone. Apparently it had happened quickly but it felt like it'd been a very long time. Long enough that I, and therefore no one, knew what had happened. Rather than pushing a cart with squeaky wheels, I had only a duffel bag I carried, and rather than picking whatever I wanted from organized shelves, I'd try to find leftover cans tucked back in storage. I knew that other people must've been here once, given the lack of supplies, but I couldn't remember ever being with them.

It was so quiet. I wanted to hum or whistle but that didn't seem right. I hadn't hummed or whistled before. I wasn't even sure I knew how to whistle.

I was used to the sounds of Errol following me, but Errol is dead. No. Errol is just asleep. He just can't be with me right now, he's just tired, he just can't get up, he just went off to scavenge on his own, he just ate something bad and had to rest, he just…

Beans. A few cans of them. That'd suffice for the evening, at least. I kept digging in the storage, sure there must be something still sealed, something still good. Maybe some packaged beef jerky or even tuna out of a can, if I was lucky. Errol would like that, if I could find him something canned.

It was difficult to judge the passage of time these days, but I could tell it was getting later by how the fogged windows darkened. I didn't feel rushed to find anywhere else to stay, though. I had shelter if there was any sort of storm and I was sure I could find something soft enough to lay down on, or maybe even something to cover up with.

I felt bad for not finding any canned meat. Errol would've wanted some.

As the light faded, it seemed today's search was over. I couldn't look for what I could not see. I made my way through the decrepit building, trying to pick up little pieces of tattered tarps and old packaging that might make it easier to lay down. It wasn't a promising haul but I'd feel better when I was with with Errol. He always made me fall asleep.

But Errol is dead. And I am alone.