I used to dream about women; now all I dream about is food.
Canned beans, canned peas, canned soup, canned ham: everything I or my immediate neighbors happened to have in the pantry or the basement, squirreled away against heavy snow or simple laziness. It's all I've eaten in the two months since the dead rose and civilization came to a crashing halt.
There was a Subway around the corner, about a five minute walk. I would stand in line, waiting to be helped, and wonder why that whole 'eat fresh' thing was a big deal, but shit, not anymore.
