First rule of apocalyptic fiction.
“She was unaware that she was being watched.”
Eve hunkered down in a musty, used book store; it was one of the few buildings that was still intact after the violent riots. She shoved the smashed remains of shelving into her meagre fire; wondering how long it would be until she was forced to burn the books. The silence mocked Eve as she stared at the flickering flames; her sense of isolation now competing with her sense of desolation. A quick meal of tinned tuna later and Eve allowed sleep to claim her, curled up next to the fire; burying herself in memories of loved ones who she hoped were still alive. Unfortunately, Eve had made one fatal mistake: she forgot to bar the door. The wolf who crept in had a pampered look, but it had missed one too many meals in quick succession. There was no pleasure in this hunt. There was simply-
The writer hit delete. Her protagonist needed to survive past chapter one.