Years

Michael stood at his front door, staring at the old wood of its frame, contemplating whether or not he truly wanted to push it open today. It had been more than fifteen years since he had last stepped outside of his house, ever since the fall. The world had gone to shit that day, and Michael had locked his doors and sworn never to leave his house unless he was being dragged kicking and screaming to his death. His windows were barricaded, furniture was pressed up against every entry way, and he had even found a way to create his own kind of cement in order to seal the back door.

But fifteen years was a long time. It was hard to say just how much of the world had changed in that time. He didn't just keep his windows closed, they were completely covered over, and he was never going to uncover them. That would be risking being found and targeted. If he wanted to stand any chance of surviving, it was best that no one knew he was still alive. But after all this time, what had happened to the world? Was it still in chaos? Would he still be in danger if he left?

He was finally beginning to run low on supplies, though. He had spent yeas surviving off of a small garden he had built in a spare room, the floorboards torn away to reveal dirt below, which he had tilled and planted with a few seeds that he was able to make from some of the food that he had with him. Potatoes, strawberries, apples. Mainly those kinds of things. It had taken him a few tries to get it right, and he had nearly starved, but he'd finally found a way to reliably grow them. But the soil was getting old and worn, and it couldn't support him for much longer. He had maybe one harvest left out of it, if he was lucky.

He couldn't rely on that. Even if the last harvest did grow, it would be meager, and maybe not even fully grown. It could poison and kill him if he was unlucky. Hell, probably not even unlucky. Those odds were better than the ones that he would survive with it. If he wanted to live much longer, he needed to brave the outside world again.

Slowly, unsurely, he unlocked the door and pushed it open. It was late in the afternoon - something he couldn't easily tell inside - and the wind was blowing gently. There was nothing outside. No one roaming the streets. Ruins and rubble of the buildings which had once been plentiful. Grass and weeds had started to grow and overcome what remained. There was little else left of the world. His home had been one of the few that remained standing.

He was luckier than he thought he was.