Fore Times

Dawns light broke through the slats in the boarded up window. The light slowly crept along the dusty floor with the passing of the morning. Cautiously it angled into the eyes of a ragged human laying in a crumpled pile. As though even the light was wary of waking the poor soul from his slumber. The body was more a pile of mismatched, worn, clothes than a person. The morning light caused him to stir uneasily.
"I should have known better than to drink that bottle all in one night." He mumbled to himself as moved to sit up. Raising his hands to his face he worked at rubbing the sleep from his eyes as he tried unsuccessfully to focus.
"Who would have thought that a bottle of wine would have such a kick! I had no idea that people used to make it that strong in the fore times."
Staring up at him quietly in the corner sat his life long friend. Matted hair and a wagging tail came into focus after a few more rubs of the eyes. The dog with no name was John's only companion. Quite a few years in his past someone had asked him the dogs name.
"He hasn't told me yet." Was John's only reply.
With a few loud cracks he stood and stretched, staggering a bit as he did so.
"If I had known it was that strong I might have kept it a while longer. I wonder how long I slept?"
John pushed open the split and cracked wooden door. The door protested as he pushed harder on it. Staring at his hand on the wood John noticed how much the back of his hand looked the same as the grain on the door. A brilliant light shone down on the two as they stepped out of the rundown shack. Looking behind himself John wondered at his choice of what they had spent the night in. The light wind sent old dried grass swaying as John tried to recall thier location from his fuzzy memory. All around him buildings stood tall, broken. All but a few windows were smashed and most buildings were missing corners or leaning precariously. Others were fallen into piles of rubble leaning against their neighbors, threatening to push them over as well.
"Ah yes, we were trying to survive." John looked down at his dog as he reached into his pocket. With a flick of his wrist he tossed a small scrap of food to the dog and started to walk off in search of food to survive another day.