We will cry and bleed and lust and love, and we will cure death. We will be the cure. Because we want it.

It’s sad to see them staring wistfully through the window when the door isn’t locked.

Every experience, good or bad, is a priceless collector's item.

You might say that death has relaxed me.

Now I’m just standing here on the conveyor. Along for the ride. I reach the end, turn around, and go back the other way. The world has been distilled. Being dead is easy. After a few hours of this, I notice a female on the opposite conveyor. She doesn’t lurch or groan like most of us. Her head just lolls from side to side. I like that about her. That she doesn’t lurch or groan. I catch her eye and stare at her.

It's a strange feeling, being so utterly surrounded by her. Her life scent is on everything. She's on me and under me and next to me. It's as if the entire room is made out of her.

Soft flesh is eaten by hard teeth.