Zombies

Sometimes you turn up in a dream out of nowhere. One moment I’m chasing zombies through New York City and then you appear. I spot you in the crowd of blood-thirsty undead and everything else falls away. As I jump into your embrace, zombies collapsing in on us, the shock of your skin and the softness of your lips is enough to make me believe that this is real. I believe that you are here to save me and that you will do so by kissing me in the middle of Fifth Avenue. I believe that we are the only two humans left alive and that’s how it will stay. We will hunker down in the subway and live off the food we find in vending machines and abandoned lunch boxes. We will sleep under benches and spend our days wandering the tunnels in the darkness, chasing rats and playing Marco Polo. This all races through my mind in the split second I have of your lifelike hair and mouth and nose and hands before I burst awake, my body on pins and needles and an array of colors mixing together in the dark canvas of my room.