The Nuclear Trader
Maybe today’s the day, I think to myself as I pack my sleeping bag. Maybe it’s the day I die and don’t have to put up with this world anymore. I’ve been wishing that for years, but even before the world went to shit, I promised my wife no matter how hard it got, I’d always keep fighting. It’s a promise most army men make to their families. Though she and my family died from the nuclear explosion, I still feel obligated to keep that promise. It’s the only thing I have to hold on to. Even their faces are gone from memory—they’re more of a feeling of hope and love, but that has begun to fade over the years.
