(This song seemed custom-designed for Y: The Last Man.)


Warm beer. It tasted like piss but it was beer and anyone with any sense at all had hooked up or gone home hours ago. And while the hour hand neared three, the Albuquerque night was still too fucking hot. The song on the jukebox spoke of other times and places, even though the sound was familiar enough to fit into any goddamn cowboy bar anywhere, even today.

Like the hand of God falling from the sky
Some days she still couldn't believe all the fucking men were dead, even though it happened more than three years ago now.

Shit.