Buried. The question that is, can it be real? Finally. "At last, no more thinking about it.", she thought. Laying in the underground shelter was almost unbearable, but not impossible. She had known it was coming, the signs were everywhere. For a while the idea that she was indeed a paranoid schizophrenic had begun to really nag at her. She knew something was awry though, because of the weather and the air quality. So hot, the air. Burning your throat. Every bug bite would whelp up, a rather large, red, hard knot. Police and military everywhere you looked. Like a claustrophobic, she had felt like being in a bottle with the air slowly being sucked out, getting ready to seal it up tight. There was no way of knowing when it would be a good time to go up and assess all the damage.

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