— Colson WhiteheadHe hooked up with strangers for a while, exchanged a grimy jar of cranberry sauce or a juice box per the new greeting ritual, and swapped information on the big matters of the day, like dead concentrations, and small things like the state of the world. A few months into the collapse, only the fools asked about the government, the army, the designated rescue stations,
Replicated under Fair Use from Zone One: A Novel by Colson Whitehead. (Pg. 140)