For the first time in what felt like forever, I woke up without someone trying to move into my house, threaten my couch, inspect my body, or convince me that civilization could be saved by people who apparently needed a flowchart to remember zombies didn't drink water.
The sun was up, it was a beautiful morning, and the thing that made it perfect was the fact that the military were leaving.
I stood near the front window with a mug of coffee in my hands, watching soldiers tear down the last of the tents across the street. Trucks were already lined up along the road, engines rumbling while men and women moved between them carrying crates, boxes, weapons, equipment, and all the other little pieces people needed when they wanted to pretend a temporary base was something more permanent.
It was almost impressive how fast they were taking everything apart.
Almost.
Personally, I was more interested in what they didn't know they were leaving behind.
