[ WP ] Planet continuity has been utterly shattered , and now doorways almost never lead to where they 're supposed to go . Which is really interesting and all , but you REALLY need to get to work .

He'd heard there were people on the outside. He heard things were civilized there, and men did n't kill for nothin', and there were n't any doors. 
 
 The man inhaled the sweet aroma of his stewing supper. A tin can, suspended over a small fire made mostly of broken shelving, held some water and a few chunks meat he found still frozen in a basement earlier in the morning. 
 
 He warmed his hands. It was cold outside, he knew it was winter because he could see out the windows of the supermarket. He could even open the front door, stand there in the open air, and feel a cool breeze push past him, sending snow, like dust, whirling through the air. 
 
 But he could not leave. Not yet. He was resolute to pilfer every last resource he could before he walked through another doorway. He had found canned food, which was good. Most of it could still be eaten, it traveled easy, and best of all the cans were useful as hell. 
 
 He sits on his duffle bag and waits for the stew to cool. It contains everything he owns. He stole it from a body he found in a warehouse in some country like China or something, it was so long ago he ca n't remember much about the place. 
 
 More now, than before, he finds corpses in the rooms he enters. In the beginning, he could barely pass under a trellis only to find himself at the business end of a rifle and sent back the way he came. Now, he found a lot of rooms empty. And not just the empty that happens when nobodies around, the emptiness that happens when nobodies been around for a long time. 
 
 He knew some had made it outside. God bless'em, he hoped he'd be one of them some day. He figures the outside has to be a big room, in the grand scheme of things. He bet's there's more doors that go to the outside than anywhere else. 
 
 He sips from his can, his breath a puff of comforting steam. 
 
 A doorway leads to a utility closet, door ajar, around the corner from his small supermarket-shelf lean-to. He has decided that will be the door he goes through, when the day comes. 
 
 For now, the winter is too unpredictable a factor to hazard a new room. Slowly, he unfolds a blanket of stitched tarp and lays across it. Using his duffle bag as a pillow, he rests his eyes for the few hours he will need to rest before continuing to pilfer the shelves and drawers of the supermarket floor.
