The only thing you can remember from before - and even that is patchy, odd somehow - is the storm.
All encompassing, strange, violent.
You needed shelter, and sure it was a trash bag but it was warm and dry.
You curled up.
When you emerge the world is empty, save for you.
There's a strange feeling, a knowing almost inbuilt that there used to be something else.
But now there is only you - and the others you can see emerging from other trash bags.
Survivors, something whispers.
Community, whispers another part.
Competition, a third.
In the end, it depends on you how you might explore this ruin of what was.