Dear Journal,

I should not have been as excited about going back to the coffee shop as I was. I think there was part of me that was still expecting it to be the exact same as it always had been since we moved in there, and I think there was even a little part of me that was expecting it to be back to how it was before everything, except obviously like less people. But it was neither.

Hansen and I went out alone to go to the coffee shop, despite his dad insisting that he should come with because you never know who’s out there, and plus it would be better to have more people come with to carry stuff anyway. I thought that was kind of weird, because like, he’d barely been in the coffee shop, and my mom sure as hell hadn’t let him look through everything while he was there, but I guess he was just assuming since we didn’t bring much with? Although he was probably right - there was no way that Hansen and I would be able to bring back all of the bags of coffee on our own, but the way I think about it, if we couldn’t get anything, that would just give up a reason to go back and have another little date night or something.

We walked through what was left of the town, and I told Hansen about businesses that used to be there, and he told me about places he used to run when he was doing his cross country practice. Apparently he’d run right past the coffee shop several times and I’d never noticed! But I mean, why would I notice cross country boys when football players were right there?? But then I told him about my friends who had died in the initial bombings, and he told me about his friends who had died and his friends who hadn’t. Which, side note, apparently the dude who’s been guarding the door every time I’ve come to the power plant is one of Hansen’s friends from cross country, which makes no sense to me, because he looks like he was born for something like football or wrestling. Maybe if I hadn’t seen Hansen first, he would have had a chance, but how could I ever look at someone else when Hansen is looking at me with those deep blue eyes?? But anyway, his friend’s name is Garrett, and Hansen said that he wanted me to try to be his friend because he doesn’t really like a lot of the people in the power plant for some reason, and he doesn’t want to be his only friend forever. Hansen said Garrett had been having a really hard time since the bombs dropped, which like, hasn’t everyone?? But I guess not everyone had their entire family die, and then got stranded with a bunch of people that they apparently don’t like. I mean, I’ve had to deal with Jared and deal with not having any basic necessities like a shower or a manicure for basically forever, but it’s probably not the same.

So anyway, I told him that I’d talk with Garrett, and Hansen was all like “thanks, I really appreciate it,” and then he took my hand in his!! And walking hand in hand over the debris of the city really isn’t sustainable long term, but oh my god, I don’t want to ever wash my hand again!

But when we got closer to the coffee shop and I saw the door partially open again, it felt like all that happiness in me sunk to the ground like a rock. Like, who would have thought just a door was enough to set me off? But I guess like my therapist had tried to tell me at one point like many years ago, way before the bombs dropped, if I hold onto stuff, that doesn’t mean it goes away, it just means that I react to it at a bad time. And I’d say right next to the hot guy who had just held my hand was one hell of a bad time. I could feel tears coming to my eyes, you know? But I just kind of ignored them and pushed the feelings back down again because there was no way I was going to cry right then. If I was lucky, I could wait until everyone was asleep and do it then.

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But Hansen didn’t notice me stop for a minute as we were walking toward the door, and he kept just walking toward it like the stuff that had happened there hadn’t changed my whole world. And even though I suddenly didn’t want to, even after being the one to suggest we come here and after being so happy walking here with him, I just swallowed down the sadness and followed a step behind him.

I don’t know if I’d seen the coffee shop dark for years, at least for more than a few seconds at a time. Before the bombs went off, my mom was always the first person in the coffee shop, and even though I sometimes helped her close, she always stayed until the very end to turn out the lights. And while we were living there, even though we turned off most of the lights in the hopes of getting to sleep a little better, we’d still always left on at least the light in the kitchen in case someone had to get up in the middle of the night. But whoever had come while we were away had individually knocked out each of the lightbulbs. As we stepped into the dark room, I couldn’t help but cringe at the sound of the glass shards beneath my feet. I didn’t know if Mr. Williams and Hattie were still alive when that happened, and honestly, I wasn’t sure I wanted to ask.

Like he had anticipated it, Hansen grabbed a flashlight out of his pocket, so we could see the parts of the coffee shop that the sun wouldn’t reach through the open door. He even had a second one for me, which I thought was super sweet! Very boy scout like, always being prepared and all that.

I can’t say I used my flashlight for too long, though, journal, because I started to sweep across the floor, and then I realized that blood was like everywhere. I don’t know why I expected anything less - I knew my mom hadn’t taken the time to clean up when we’d stopped her last time, after all, but for some reason, I just thought it’d be…cleaner. But as soon as I saw the dark stain on the floor and realized what it was, I switched off my light and used what the light coming through the door to guide Hansen back to the kitchen, where there luckily wasn’t any blood. It didn’t even look like whoever had come in had touched anything other than the lights! Like yeah, there was one bowl on the floor, but it was a small enough mess that maybe my mom or Ben had just knocked it off when they were grabbing coffee. Everything else looked like it hadn’t even been touched, which was crazy to me. Like, who would come in, kill two old people, and then not even grab anything? What had they even been here for??

That question has kept me up too many nights. I know there’s no way for me to really answer it, but the lack of answers drives me crazy sometimes.

Anyway, we filled up two coffee bags for me, and Hansen grabbed four for himself (only one was actually full of coffee - if we wanted to keep Rex happy enough that he’d keep letting us do whatever we wanted, we should probably come back and grab some more soon), and headed back out. The plan had originally been to spend the night at the coffee shop, but with all the glass and blood, there was no way. Yeah, we could have maybe grabbed the broom that was still right where it always was and swept up enough of a spot for us to sleep, but I at least would definitely not be sleeping anyway. So instead, we chose a spot not too far from the coffee shop, where Jared and I had already cleaned up the road, so it was way easier to find a spot to sleep. Hansen made the fire and basically passed out, but I’ve tried several times, and I just can’t get to sleep. But I suppose I should try again before it’s fully morning.

Love,

Kayla