As I sat alone at the table, staring down at the cold food in front of me, My chest felt hollow as I

looked around, searching for something to fill the void inside me. The rain tapping against the
window pane seemed to echo my melancholic mood. It had been weeks since I had seen another
person, and I was beginning to feel the weight of the isolation.

My mind wandered back to simpler times, before the world had shut down. I remembered my
friends, family, the laughter and the warmth of their embrace. But those days were gone now,
replaced by an endless cycle of monotony.

I tried to distract myself by picking at the food on my plate, but the tasteless, cold mass only served
to remind me of my solitude. I sighed, pushing the plate away and rested my head in my hands. But
then, as if on cue, the lights flickered and went out. I sat up, startled and reached for my phone to
use as a flashlight. It was then that I noticed the smell of gas.

Panicked, I stumbled to my feet and stumbled towards the kitchen. Barely seeing my hand in front of
my face, but I managed to find the stove and turn off the gas. I sighed in relief, but my stomach
rumbled in protest.

I remembered a trick my grandmother had taught me when I was a child. She would wrap hot stones
in a towel and place them in a basket of freshly baked bread, keeping it warm for hours. I didn't have
any stones, but I did have a few microwavable rice bags.