Grayed

Grayed, Chapter 2

The whole car grows stiff.

The zombie glances side to side, his thick gray brows furrow as though he were challenging someone to say something. He adjusts his duffel bag and looks for an empty seat.

I can't move my bag fast enough. It's too late. He spots it and walks over to me.

"Can I sit here?" His gruff voice puffs from under his scarf.

My heartbeat quickens as I remove the bag and he sits down next to me. I've never been this close to a Gray before.

He places his duffel between his legs and pulls his scarf down. He has a wide rounded face and a strong jaw. His ash-gray skin looks faded, but it's easy to tell that it used to be dark brown. In fact, his whole body looks like a printed picture that ran out of ink halfway through. His short tightly curled hair is a cloudy gray and his left eyebrow has a scratch through it. His brows furrow in a very severe scowl and his yellow-gray eyes flicker like a cold fire.

"What you looking at?" He rasps at me. It almost sounds as though it takes great effort for him to speak.

I dart my eyes at the floor. How rude. Then again I probably was staring too long.

I sit for a moment and pray that he'll move. I can hear the people on the car mumble to one another.

"Hey," I look up to see the man's eyes staring right at me. My heart flies up into my throat, "You dropped this."

He holds out a white plastic butterfly. It must have fallen out of my hair.

I rub my fingers together nervously.

"What you think I'm gonna bite you?" Through his deep croaking voice, a tone of sarcasm drips through.

"Th-th-thank you." I stammer as he plops the butterfly into my open hand. I clip it back in my hair and check my makeup again dismissively.

"Doesn't all that shit get hot?" He murmurs.

I look up again and close Mimi.

"E-excuse me?"  I ask quizzically.

"That," he gestures to me. "all yall folks wear all that layers of makeup and wigs and shit, don't that all get hot after a while?"

Is he really trying to start a conversation with me?

"I-I... not usually." I can't seem to find words.

"Because you were staring at me, but you're the one with all the clown shit on." He flitters his fingers at me.

"It's supposed to look clownish!" I snap at him irritably and clutch my purse, "it's this year's theme."

He rolls his eyes.

"Sorry, didn't know it was so imperative to look like a clown this year. Must have missed the clown memo."

"Well, look at you, you're dressed like some crappy action movie!" I cover my lips with a squeak. I didn't mean to snap at him. I swallow nervously. Maybe he will bite me after all. 

Instead he throws his head back and snorts.

"Is that so, tiny?" He smiles at me with a mocking tone.

"Indeed." I clutch my bag again.

"And it's that damn important to look like a clown? How much time did you waste on it?"

"I didn't waste any time on it. I'm actually pretty quick with my makeup."

"Because it's sooo important right? Got nothing better to do with your time than gettin' gussied up for nothing?" His voice grows less patronizing and more joketive.