April 27 - Post-Apocalyptic Herbivore

In the previous world, he was what they called an herbivore--a sensitive male more interested in fashion, shopping, and platonic friendships than in material success, status, and sexual conquests. Docile, reserved, artsy. Sex? No, thanks. Too shy, too timid. Female friendship, sure. But no sex.
Not the kind of guy you'd expect to thrive in a post-apocalyptic wasteland, yet there he was, one of the few survivors left after the BE, the Big Event, the global catastrophe that wiped out almost everybody on the planet.
A traumatic experience, sure. But the thing was, he had always been an incredibly shy guy, so the absence of people didn't really bother him that much. If anything, it was a relief. Without social pressures to deal with, there wasn't really much of anything to worry about.
Most of the buildings survived the BE intact, so there was plenty of shelter. The weather wasn't an issue. Even though not much grew anymore, food wasn't a problem. There was way more canned stuff sitting around than there were people left around to eat it. He kept an abundant, but not excessive supply of many of his favorites (cheddar and broccoli soup, beef ravioli (he was an herbivore, but not a vegetarian), and refried beans) in the small hotel room where he lived. Other possessions:

Clothes. Lots and lots of clothes.
Hair care products (Even though he avoided other survivors as much as possible, he still liked to look good for himself).
Pillows. He used pretty much every pillow in the hotel to make nests and forts in his room.
Fashion magazines.

Fashion magazines were about the only thing he'd ever read before the BE, and that's about all he looked at since. The problem was that nobody was making any new fashion magazines anymore (or anything else for that matter), and he'd already read all the ones in existence. He needed something new to read.
One morning he was re(re-re-re)-reading an old issue of Vogue when he stopped on the book review section. One of the titles, Confessions of a Shopaholic, sounded pretty good to him, so he planned an exhibition to a bookstore to find it.
He was nervous as he made his way through the largely empty city. As much as possible, he wanted to avoid people--not out of any mortal fear as much as out of dread of social awkwardness. He'd met people since the BE, and the conversations were almost always the same:

Where were you from? Around here.
What'd you do before the BE? I was an art student.
Can you believe this weather? Yeah, totally, right?
Etc, etc, etc.

If he could steer clear of other people, he would.
The first few bookstores he went to had been looted: very few books left, and no copies of Shopaholic, so he had to expand his search and leave the comfort of his neighborhood.
It was while searching through a shopping mall's bookstore several blocks from his home that he came across a small tribe of survivors. They invited him back to their base--the bedding section of the mall's department store--and he was too passive to say no.
During dinner that night, he found out what was apparently happening to a lot of the books: They were being burned for fuel.
After dinner, he learned what was happening some of the rest of the books: They were being used as toilet paper. While using the tribe's facilities (no plumbing), he saw a stack of paperbacks next to a wastepaper basket. One of the books in the stack was quite possibly the last copy of Confessions of a Shopaholic on earth.
Without hesitating, he tucked the book under his arm and left the bathroom, but he was stopped by the group leader who told him to put it back, that they needed all the t.p. they could get. He wanted to protest, but instead he consented quietly and apologized.
His visit stretched into an overnight stay and then another night and then another. And as often as possible, he stole away to the bathroom to read Confessions, hiding it at the bottom of the t.p. stack every time he left. But each time he returned, someone else had moved it back to the top and torn a few pages from it.
Fortunately for him, they tore the pages from the beginning, but it was hard to stay ahead of them. During each visit to the bathroom, he would try to read at least a chapter, but the next time he returned at least two more chapters would be gone.
As the days wore on, he read faster, his eyes frantically skimming down each page like someone had lit it on fire and he had to finish it before it was reduced to ash. It wasn't the way he liked to read, but he had no choice. If he was going to finish the story before its ending came to a more ignominious end, furious skimming was the only way.
He finished chapter 30, and the rest of the group finished chapters 17 and 18. He put away chapter 31. The next day, chapters 19 - 21 were disposed of. Each day he was getting closer to the ending, but they were catching up fast. It was like a marathon race between a world class Kenyan champion and a recreational runner with a head start and a limp. It was only a matter of time before he was overtaken. The only question was if he would finish it before they caught up.
With three chapters to go, he locked himself in the bathroom after everyone else had gone to sleep. He wouldn't leave until he was finished. At least that was the plan, but with one chapter left, he was interrupted by furious pounding on the door. He tried to ignore it, but it was no use. The light was on and the door was locked from the inside. He couldn't pretend he wasn't there. He had to give up the bathroom. The knocking and pleading were too desperate, but before he left he stashed the book at the bottom of the pile.
It was the longest wait of his life.
After the interrupter had finished he went back inside, and Confessions was at the top of the stack. He couldn't believe it. It was like they were determined to ruin it for him. Wincing, he picked it up and opened it and saw that the only pages remaining were the ones he hadn't read yet.
This time he stuck the book down his pants, grabbed a flashlight, and finished it in a stairwell. Then, just before everyone else woke up, he slipped out of the mall and started on his search for the sequels.