Resting on the corner of the sink, her phone counts down seconds on-screen. At zero, chimes ring.
Milly bolts upright on the living room hideaway bed. Approaching the bathroom, she pivots through the doorway and taps the phone, silencing it.
In the shower, Milly runs an electric shaver over her legs. She touches a small raised scar on the back of her upper thigh — then another. Closing her eyes and pushing her face into the warm water, she breathes steadily, again and again.
Orange light illuminating the shower fades teal blue as the water turns tepid. A panel reads:
— WATER RATION
Milly’s fingers slide down goose bumps on her arms. She pats the waterproof Bruisex fabric adhered to her belly. Toweling off, she dries her hair but applies little makeup. Selecting a blouse from her bedroom racks, she stuffs shoes in a bag and then folds a skirt on top. In slacks, gathering her riding gear near the entrance, she snaps her fingers.
A thin film formed on the soup. Milly arrives with a fork to sample it. She shrugs, then eats the rest while standing. The stove switches itself off.
Bypassing gold and platinum, she chooses sterling silver for her earlobes — little figurines of snakes.
Milly turns to the mirror, smiles, bares her teeth — then snaps them shut.