K lay in bed wondering if he had dreamed the whole thing (if he had, this little story would naturally be over), and also wondering if the sound in the distance was really what it sounded like (it was, for the same reason) . He sat up and peered out the window.
Then he turned on the TV.
The woman in the pantsuit was visibly concerned–as though concerned specifically for K–and as she spoke, she did so in the manner of a soloist singing a sad song on a sad occasion: Women are in the immediate vicinity; take shelter now.
He hadn’t taken the appropriate precautions against more women. He managed to survive the last onslaught–though the toll had been considerable–and just sorta figured there wouldn’t be any more for a while. They had taken everything already; what more could they want? what more could they take?
They were getting closer. He needed provisions–food, water, nails, wood, knives.
K got dressed and fled down the stairs (he slept upstairs) and opened the door. But it was already too late.
Excuse me…
Her eyes were blue and she was beautiful.
Can I use your phone?
His head started to swim.
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