AlphaFemaleWolf

The day after the apocalypse, I read. I find a bookshop, one of the only buildings that hasn't been destroyed by the blast.  The door is locked, but the front window has a hole in it , and my shirt-wrapped fingers manage to break away enough of the splinters to create some sort of entrance. For the first time in my life, I am thankful for being small. My hands are bleeding when I get inside. My shoulder is too - there's a sliver of glass buried in it too deep to dig out - and the gashes on my chest have opened up again, but there isn't much I can do about those. I don't want to bleed on the books, that's all. I don't have any bandages, so