If the bomb shelter were any smaller, they probably would have killed each other by now. As it was they alternated between days where they barely acknowledged each other to days entirely spent in bed, comforting each other with quiet whispers and sex.
It was the latter kind of day, but they were hungry, and so Penny got up to cook. The recipe was simple: rice, corn, beans, tomatoes, all from cans. Spice to suit. She called it ‘Armageddon Surprise.” They’d eaten variations of it, and nothing else, for two months. Penny would have given anything for a fresh orange.