Milly checks the external atmospheric quality metrics on her condo terminal:
— Chemical / Radiation / Smoke / Allergens
“Two greens, two yellow — good enough.” Milly dons a snug, gray fitness getup — moisture-wicking polymer fabric. She straps on jogging shoes and grabs her mask.
In the lobby, she bounces past the gray-haired coffee ladies. “Milly, aren’t you a vision? What’s your secret?”
Milly stops. “It’s all the drugs!” Everyone laughs. Milly puts her hand on the shoulder of the eldest. “Hi, Meghan.”
Her wrinkled hand squeezes Milly’s fingers.
“See you later.” Milly heads to the door.
Another lady sighs. “To be young. Wish I still looked like that.”
“You never looked like that,” Meghan says.
The women cackle.
Outside the front door, wearing her mask, Milly turns north and jogs off with vigor.
Later, a security guard taps his watch at Milly’s approach. A sign on the bridge reads:
— WARNING / Leaving Downtown Security Zone / North Seattle Ahead
Waving, Milly instead turns right along the southern beach. Across the water lies Gas Works Park. Fledgling palm trees dot the shores. Boats float, some pristine, many derelict, moored haphazardly.
The walls of the University and I-5 are visible on clearer days.
Milly levels her hand with distant ruined shoreline buildings, faded waterlines on walls still visible. “Whoosh!” She looks west towards the ocean. “Hard to imagine.”
Seattle wasn’t hit as hard as most coastal cities.
Lights sparkle up north. Crackling sounds of gunfire come moments later. Milly whips her head to look. “Are they dead?” Jogging home, police sirens never sound.
After doing push-ups in her living room, Milly pulls a greeting card from her desk and grabs a pencil. Her handwriting is cursive — not taught for decades.
— If you’re reading this, I’m in trouble. Please help: notify our building security (not the police) I met Bingo, Turtle and Heoh and I haven’t returned from their address …
Milly signs the card, seals its envelope, and stuffs it into her purse. Then she writes that same message onto a piece of paper which she leaves on her desk.