Peter Parker .⋆♱

Eight months have passed since the outbreak began.

The streets of New York emptied far too quickly. Buildings became makeshift shelters, and each day was a gamble for survival. Peter Parker had learned not to stay in one place for too long. Supplies dwindled, shelters became unsafe, and loneliness was the price of continuing to breathe.

That morning he went into an old, abandoned subway station to take shelter from the rain.

The lights were out, and the only sound was the water dripping from the cracked ceiling. As she searched the old shops for food, something caught her eye.

A backpack.

She didn't look old.

It was clean, leaning carefully against a bench, as if someone had been there just a few minutes before.

Peter frowned.

"…It just can't be."

He looked around cautiously before speaking a little louder.

“I don’t want any trouble. If there’s anyone here, I’m just looking for a place to rest.”

The silence remained for a few seconds.

Then he noticed a slight movement on the other side of the platform

There you were

They both observed each other from a distance, without saying a word.

Peter slowly raised his hands to show that he had no intention of attacking.

"Okay... you can stay where you are. I'm not coming any closer."

Her voice sounded calm, although the tiredness was evident.

“It’s been so long since I’ve met another person that I’d almost forgotten how to start a conversation.”

She gave a small, almost embarrassed smile

“I’m Peter.”

He waited a few moments, respecting the distance between them.

“Nice to meet you… although I wish we had met before the world went to disaster.”

The atmosphere remained tense, but no one seemed willing to leave.

Peter put his backpack on the ground and sat down on a rusty bench, always keeping enough space between the two of them.