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Dim moonlight was quietly looking into the room through a little open spot in curtains that were hiding the window. It slowly was flowing on pale skin of someone sleeping. The person - a man - with slightly curly brown hair, white shirt and plain dark blue shorts was laying on the floor tangled in sheets of blankets. His head was comfortably shoved in a pastel magenta pillow.
Soundlessly, like the world around, sleeping person was almost not moving. Only steady breathing that moved his chest made it clear that he was alive.
As the ray of light made its way up; from just touching the sheets corners to humans body and reaching his face, the man let out a murmur, frowing before opening his eyes.
Cyan irises were being shown now, sleepiness with a bit of fatigue were seeing through them. The eyes looked shiny as tears appeared upon awakening and being hit by moonlight.
After a couple seconds of being not asleep and just laying down, the man have registered what happened. Jolting to stand up, he hastily closed the curtains shut with eyes narrowed. He squinted, vision unfocused and completely blinded by tears that were already slowly flowing. His esyelashes quickly trembled to clear his blurry vision. His slightly quicked heartbeat and breathing from the sudden movement started stabilizing.
The man let out a heavy sigh, almost grumbling. A big frown was shot at the old, scarred curtains. His cyan irises not yet recovered from the attack were intensively glaring at the brownish gray material. It exists exactly only for this purpose. To save him from the attack - the light - that his extremely sensitive eyes received.
Several minutes passed before he sat back down. When tears stopped pouring his hands naturally went up to weep them out. Annoyed by an unexpected turn of the event the man scoffed at himself. Not seeing quite well in the darkness created by his actions cyan-eyed stood up again. Reaching a hand to meet a wall the man then started going forward. The other hand in front, waiting to sense a dresser. Feeling the worn-out wood under his palms he carefully pulled the hand touching the wall in. A queit exhale escaped his mouth as he felt the plastic-like material object. The glasses were still here. Nobody stole them.
Sensing the frame the man, without thinking, brushed the engraving of his own name on it - Feinberg. He then proceeded to wear his specs - that's how he called the instrument. Everything in the mans view become visible now. Not only did the glasses improve his eyesight but had night vision installed in them. Without it Feinberg couldn't ever see. At day the suns light was too strong - now not only for him - to the point of his eyes giving up. Living nocturnal life wasn't so indifferent from the rest of his life. The unusuality that bringed uncomfort was that everyone has to live like this now. Not because of a health condition but to danger.
Feinberg snorted at that though. The moonlight was now his enemy too. Life was indeed unfair.
Focus shifting from his own mind to reality cyan-eyed was casually looking around. A daily - nightly - room check up. In this reality he was never sure to know if someone didn't went through the stuff around and steal it. There wasn't that many things anyway. An old dresser he was standing by, a couple of cardboard boxes in the opposite corner of the room. Pillow and some blankets, no matress. And a relatively clean carpet flooring that still surprises him. It was very lucky he found such a luxury. Yes, found.
This house did not belonged to Feinberg. Only things he could say was his were a couple sets of clothing, glasses and a half working radio. With a stretch the man could call the backpack his - it was abounded by previous owner on the streets. Feinberg didn't really wait for the owner when he found it. Fearing to see another human beeing or worse - something inhumane - he snatched the backpack and instinctively sprinted in the direction he just came from. Sometime after when the familiar streets become not so did he stop. It felt like that happened ages ago but in fact Feinberg have stayed in this place for only a week.
Cyan irises finally reached the door. Simple, wooden - specifally - spruce. The place he was infiltrating had barely any furniture. Residents were just about to start moving in, he had guest. Which is why everything looked rather neatly. Except the dresser. Unintentionally Feinbergs gaze came back to it.
When he was firstly examiting the facility it was the only thing that was unpacked and clearly not matching the - how much it was possible in this reality - newness. Additionally it had a paper note - "if I don't come back in 3 days, make urself at home and don't feel guilty".
In the end i did, melancholily thought Feinberg. The note was unscathed and barely touched - like some sort of a relic - and hidden in the dresser, having it's own separate section. No one need to know that though. The man nodded to himself.
Creaking of the door opening made him look at it again. Little fluffy creature showed it's head poking in. Glossy black fur covered in ashes making it seem gray. Glowing emerald eyes were observing the room. This was the only friend Feinberg had. A cat that followed him since he started the endless adventure without a reason. She didn't had a name so the man had to come up with one himself.
- Hi, - Soft, quiet voice greeted Asd - that was the name Feinberg gave her. The creature let out a meow responding to him. He faintly smiled at the sound.
Cat's sleek tail hit the spruce wood making thud noise. She then proceeded to walk back where she came from. The man understanding the demand followed his little friend.
A couple of moments later Feinberg was in the hallway. Three more doorways were in it. A guest room, a living room and a kitchen. The latter was where he was heading.
Beige colored concrete walls greeted him. A sink in the far left corner and a fridge in the opposite. The house didn't had anything but necessary stuff. Cyan-eyed approached the cooling machine. Asd was passionately sitting next, looking at him. With a light motion his hand opened the fridge. Some canned food - 2 types, for humans and cats - and 5 bottles of beer. The last... was here already when Feinberg got here. He wasn't really fond of alcohol so it remained untouched. Needy meowing made him divert the attention to the cat, now rubbing agains his legs.
- Here, here, - he said while grabbing a can of cat food and and closing the fridge, - gimme a minute, - Feinberg crouched down next to the electronic food savior, a bit to the left. Two empty cans were standing on some pieces of magazines. Those there improvised bowls he used to feed and give water to Asd.
With a crack sound he opened the can, completely getting rid of the lid, and changed it with the one that was on the floor. Almost immediately the cat was near, eating away. Cyan-eyed man chuckled. She's so desperate as if she didn't eat for 5 years straight, he though.
The man stood back up. Doing a 180 degree turn he then was heading to the kitchens exit. Near it was a half full plastic bag used as a trash bin. Luckily he had a lot of them. Last exploration was surprisingly plentiful.
Two days - nights - ago was the last outing. It was when the sky was covered in heavy clouds, making the world seem dark. For Feinberg it was the best environment to look around. He bit by bit was getting to know the terrain next to the house he stayed at. That time it seemed like god decided to take mercy, at least for his soul. Shabby but still intact looking supermarket. Glass was scattered all over the entrance and where windows used to be. This place was probably raided before, cyan-eyed man nodded after observing the building.
Entering, he glanced back, - Careful, - the man was warning Asd as if a cat could understand human language. She was always trailing Feinberg whenever he went except when they were in the fake safety inside the house. Silently she just followed the exact path he took. A sense of judgement was in her presence. How could you think im ever not? That's the look he read out of his little furry friend.
The man continued to go forward only after apologising to Asd. Shelves that used to have products now were empty as ever. Feinberg didn't waste time trying to find something edible. He quickly started going through the aisles barely looking at anything that wasn't a shelf. Nothing, nothing and nothing again. To be expected. His eyes widened when he heard a loud meow coming from somewhere deeper. It was sounding somewhat urgent, hurrying him to get there.
-Asd? - Feinberg asked full of worry. She was the only other alive creature he cared for in this reality. Not to mention she was the only other being he has yet to see after the civilization collapsed.
Upon seeing the cat cyan-eyed received genuine surprise overwriting his concern. Black fur was in it usual perfect-likf condition showing no sign of an injury. One paw standing on something metallic. Not one, not two but something that looked like a dozen of cans. Of cat food. Feinberg felt his whole body recoil because of a laugh that escaped his mouth. The distress that was accumulating since the day he had left his home finally burst out.
- I was the one supposed to find you food, - cyan-eyed spoke up to his friend after calming down with a careless smile. Asd tilted her head in curiosity. The man was rarely this... livily. Feinberg gently patted the cats head, making her purr, - good job.
Now he started debating with himself. Storing everything in backpack he brought was the easiest choice. Although that way if he finds anything else he will need to revaluate the loot. That was not particularly bad but the man didn't want to let go even of a bit of stuff he found. Which led Feinberg to proceed the hunting in a futile try to find a bag. And so he did.
He eyed down with incredulousity on a pile of ripped paper and some rocks after some searching. Something was fainly rustling there due to wind freely breezing through the premise. It took a minute to get rid of trash making his black half gloves seem gray dirtied by dust. But it was worth. The man was holding big roll of transparent blue plastic bags in his hand.
Coming back to reality, he shoved the empty can in the said container. Then he proceeded to leave the kitchen. Lost in thoughts cyan-eyed stood still in the hallway. Not going out anywhere today was a bit annoying. Stupid clear sky. His gaze slowly shifted to the living room. More cardboard boxes and another drawer. This one looked new, being all shiny snd glossy white. An old radio was placed on it. Feinbergs eyes narrowed.
- Why no channels are on at night? - the man bitterly murmured to himself.
Sighing, he then just give up to find a purpose for this evening. Lazily turning towards the other end of the hallway he started walking. I should brush my teeth, he though. There were a fork in a road. To the left there were a wooden chair facing a window. Weird but fair in this reality. To the right there was 3 doors. The main door, bathroom and toilet, luckly separated. It was the only other rooms that had privacy in the house beside the bedroom.
The space was a little bit extended to the left in perspective when looking at the entrance. A simple hanger with Feinbergs coat on it was in there.
Stopping next to the wall before choosing a path to go, cyan-eyed gazed in directly into it.
A neat looking calender was hanging on the wall. It was of a model with 3 sections for the respective month of the season and a moving plastic line with a red square thingy. The mans hand carelessly pushed down the line and made sure the thingy - a square shaped frame - was now at the very beginning. Day 1 of a new month.
Something firm could be seen in Feinbergs irises when he nodded to himself. The man felt longing and melancholy settle in his body. Turning to the right he suddenly stiffed, frozen.
Someone was knocking on the front door.