Warm Bodies||
Theres a couple things that he wished he could do. One of them is to introduce himself, but he didn't quite remember his name. Though he thinks it started with a G, but who knows, he could be a ryan or a michael for all he knew. He didnt remember anything. Not his parents or his life or even if he had some cruddy job. Though judging by him torn up, ragged hoodie, he assumed he was unemployed. He wasnt anything special, he was pale, had a crooked walk and he was dead; everyone was dead. He sometimes looked at the other people aimlessly walking around him and tried to think about what they were, how their lives were.
G walked though the air port where tons of dead people made their homes, spotting a few of what they would call bonies. They didnt bother the dead but they would eat anything with a heart beat. Of course he would too but at least he felt bad about it. We all become them someday. It was sad that-- that is what he had to look forward to. Kind of a bummer if you asked him. The most fun he had was occasionally sitting down and grumbling and grunting to his only friend, sometimes they would even head nod at eachother and make out illegible words. This is what his life was.
