"The milk is lukewarm," Katelyn said as she hustled a wailing infant into the high chair.
"Stop that noise, Emma," she told the baby, rapping the plastic spoon against the tray. "You're not a siren."
Emma shrieked and grabbed at the spoon with a sticky fist. Katelyn tightened the cap on the bottle without looking at the clock. The metal face showed a single blinking battery icon and the date line that smelled like old news.
"You want the cold side," Katelyn said, warming water on the stove with her hand instead of the broken kettle. "No fridge today, remember?"
She read headlines from her phone out loud because listing problems made them smaller, sometimes. "Power rationing in Sector 7. Shelters at capacity. Heat advisory extended." She tapped the screen, showing the headline to Emma as if that would calm her.
Emma drooled and accepted the bottle. She made a satisfied little sound and closed her eyes.
Katelyn let out a short laugh. "You will sleep through the end of the world if I can help it." She put the phone down and checked the empty shelf where cereal used to be. A single dented can of beans stared back.
"Mom," said a voice through the door. Clarissa's head appeared, hair tucked under a scarf. "You forget your list."
"I didn't forget," Katelyn said. "I just didn't write it."
Clarissa stepped in, handed over a plastic bag with three sprouted potatoes and a folded bill. "I didn
