Before Everything and After

I don't know how long I'll continue to live in this condition. I don't even know if I actually care. I'm living more in the moment now than I ever did when I was a teenager without a care. It feels great… if I could remember what great actually feels like.

I crouch in an alleyway in a city near my old town, waiting for maybe an unlucky survivor of the zombie apocalypse to cross my path. There's less and less of them every day.

Suddenly, a boy about my age runs into the alleyway and tries to hide behind a dumpster. A zombie lumbers past. I realize that most of them are too stupid to be any good at this type of thing. The zombie keeps going and rounds the corner, grunting after another survivor in another place.

The boy's about to get out of his hiding spot when he gets stuck behind the dumpster. He tugs, trying to get out, but is unsuccessful.

I slide out of my hiding spot and drag myself towards the boy, smiling crookedly. My mouth has long since been ripped out of its original shape. The boy notices me and screams, flailing around to get out from behind the dumpster.

Before he can get out from behind it, I grab his head and bang it against the concrete ground. It cracks open like an egg and lets out its precious yoke.

I smile again as I dig into my dinner of brains. Because sometimes, that's all you really can do.