don't have a lot left

Even the sound of the rain was different, somehow. It seemed impossibly loud, pattering through the holes in the roof, echoing off the useless air ducts. The house felt so much like a metal eggshell, chipped away at by the elements until it was pocked and littered and only an echo of what it once was.

Zetta sat and watched Riley breathe. She found herself doing that a lot, lately. Any time she didn't spend scavenging or building or bickering, she spent watching him breathe.

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