A month ago now, I woke up in my own bed and the world was pretty much as I had left it the night before, falling asleep with a mild case of heartburn that I was sure would be gone by morning. By morning there was snow on the ground, not unusual for the time of year. It was late November, and I live in the Pacific Northwest region of the United States. What had changed overnight was the people, including myself though my own changes were quite different from everybody else's.

Everybody was gone. Except me of course, I'm still here. When I went to bed the world was full of people and when I woke there were seven or eight billion of us suddenly missing. And I mean suddenly missing, as far as I could tell they vanished in mid-stride, some of them were driving cars or trucks and when the people disappeared they left a pile of clothing and accessories behind, letting the vehicles slide to a halt or crash into barriers, partly blocking the streets and highways. Hold on, I'm getting ahead of myself.

You want to know what happened to me? I went to bed in a fully grown adult, 55 year old body with typical aches and pains and callouses and scars that you get from living that long and woke up as a little kid. No aches, like a breath of fresh air. I haven't woken up that well in 20 years. No callouses, skin strangely soft all over, and no scars. No bellybutton. Obviously none of my clothes fit.

I got online while the Internet was still up, and every chat room I went to was barren. It was me, the admin robots, and silent people idling from the night before that signed off one by one over the next few weeks and never came back. The Internet gradually shrank as unmonitored hardware crashed or lost power until finally the power grid failed completely. I quickly realized that whatever was happening, no help was on the way. I was very much alone on Earth.

In the first few days I wore layers of baggy clothes that used to be my size. With three pairs of thick socks my shoes more or less fit well enough to walk but outside I was trudging through snow. No need to run. I checked with neighbors (nobody home), the apartment manager's office (closed), and when I got to a nearby convenience store I found it open. They're open 24 hours, why would they be closed. Why are there even locks on the doors? That's where I found the first pile of clothing. One set of adult clothes, wallet, keys, and loose change in pants pockets in front of the coffee station. Right next to a paper cup and spilled coffee. Must have been a customer. Another set behind the register including a uniform shirt.

Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.

I called emergency services. I walked to the police station, fire department, city hall. Some doors were locked, some were unlocked but I didn't see another living person. I saw birds, and a deer or two so I wasn't the only living thing in an empty city, but no people, and no pets. You might have been worried as I was about all the pets locked in empty houses when their owners suddenly vanished. I checked all my neighbors with pets but no dogs, no cats. A few starkly empty birdcages.

I'm not a looter so don't judge me, but I needed clothes that fit and pretty soon I needed supplies. Most people take their tap water for granted but all the equipment that filters and treats it takes constant monitoring. I couldn't risk getting sick, so it was melted snow or bottled water. Bottled water from that convenience store, to start with. I had money to pay, if credit cards still worked, or if banks were still open, and if anybody ever came around to collect. So far they haven't.

I've piled loads of fresh produce from the local grocery store into shopping carts and pushed them outside since then. The snow has melted for now but with the cold weather and no electric power it'll keep better, and as it goes bad the miasma won't build up inside where there's enough canned food to get me through the winter at least. I can't carry very much so I keep a can opener at one of the registers figuring anything I eat at the store is one less thing to lug home.

Home has also changed. I walked around the neighborhood until I found a house with firewood piled outside, and when I woke up cold one morning because there was no power, I moved in and started using the fireplace. It's not hard to get used to a new situation when you're focused on survival.