At Least The Zombies Ship Us

A Faceless Mass

Hours turned to days turned to weeks in that hotel room, and we grew tired of our surroundings. We somehow never grew tired of each other.

The zombies just werent going away - i mean, theyre already dead, so what do they have to lose. Dead. It sounds peaceful.

"Maybe i should go out and face them", i say.

"If anyone it should be me"

"huh why?"

"because 1. Im stronger than you, 2. I'd make a hot zombie, and 3. I don't wanna be left alone if it fails"

"So you're happy becoming just one of a faceless mass?"

"Sure. Altho to be honest id prefer to die in control of myself than be dead as a hot but ew zombie"

"i think we can find a way to make that happen"

Our eyes meet and we seem to be in a mutual agreement. Dying together is better than dying alone.

We utilise the hotel curtains and tie two nooses (i think thats the plural of noose). I think you can see where this going, and this is where we are right now. As i said, i wanted to tell this story just in case there are any other survivors. We both wanted to die anyway, so this isn't really a big deal - but i guess every great love story ends in some sort of death, right? Even if its just death on the inside, in a form of heartbreak or pain - it shows the true strength of this feeling that is just chemicals telling our bodies to reproduce. Even tho im gay. So thats probably not gonna happen. So goodbye for now i guess - cya in some other lifetime. Maybe a lifetime where she loves me the same way i love her.

*they finish tying the nooses and as they stand on chairs, about to step off, their hands touch, and their fingers intertwine.
They step off in unison.
Their breathing stops and their hands go limp.*