Breaking open the last carton to reveal the same organized shapes and patterns as the last had a comforting familiarity about it. Knowing it was the last time I would be opening a carton had a sorrow about it that had been growing since I noticed how few were left. The day that I had been dreading was finally here.

I don’t feel the weight of an existential crisis unfolding before my very eyes, I almost don’t feel anything at all. The movements find themselves in my muscle memory, I don’t even have to think.

This is going to be my last prepackaged meal. My last portioned and calculated nutrition. The last time the food was cleaned, heated properly, properly packed and stored. From here on out it won’t be so easy, my once comforting ritual is going to turn into a struggle to find sustenance across a dying landscape. I don’t know how much longer I am going to survive.

I am glad I made it this far.