The Unborn Prophet & My Doomsday Fort
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Summary
The second before I swiped my Amex at the Hermès boutique, I heard a scream from my son in my belly.
Mom! Stop buying these useless bags! The zombies are coming in a month! You can’t eat this thing, and you can’t even crack a nut with it. What’s the point?!
Go buy rice! Buy oil! Sell that limited-edition sports car and get a bulletproof armored truck!
My hand trembled, and the order form for a few million dollars' worth of goods scattered across the floor.
The sales associate shot me a look dripping with disdain.
