She hugs me. It’s tentative at first, a little scared, and yes, a little repulsed, but then she melts into it. She rests her head against my cold neck and embraces me. Unable to believer...

What’s wrong with people?” she says, almost too quiet for me to hear. “Were they born with parts missing or did it fall out somewhere along the way?

The shadows of the room pool in the lines of our faces, draining our eyes of hue. “There’s nothing left worth saying.

You should always be taking pictures, if not with a camera then with your mind. Memories you capture on purpose are always more vivid than the ones you pick up by accident.

I’m watching her talk. Watching her jaw move and collecting her words one by one as they spill from her lips. I don’t deserve them. Her warm memories. I’d like to paint them over the...

…and we’ll see what happens when we say Yes while this rigor mortis world screams No.

The ethics of eating people are blurry at best in the fog of my undead amnesia, but I expect more for such a high price. What I want are the moments I will never have....

Was it just fear? the voices wonder. We were fearful in the best of times; how could we cope with the worst? So we found the tallest walls and poured ourselves behind them. We kept...

Good people see past their own fucking lives.

… we shoved out many hopes and fears into their hands, believing those hands were strong because they had firm handshakes. They failed us, always. There was no way they could not fail us –...

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

Are we all just Dark Age doctors, swearing by our leeches? We crave a greater science. We want to be proven wrong.

My friend “M” says the irony of being a zombie is that everything is funny, but you can’t smile, because your lips have rotted off.

My mind has cleared a little; I’ve regained some instincts and associations, echoes of the Living world if not actual memories. Those I still have to steal.

Maybe eventually winter will finish our job for us and end the world in ice instead of blood.

No hizo falta mucho para reducir el castillo de naipes de la civilización. Solo unas pocas ráfagas y pasó, la balanza se inclinó, se rompió el encanto. Los buenos ciudadanos se dieron cuenta de que...

It’s not about keeping up the population, it’s about passing on who we are and what we’ve learned, so things keep going. So we don’t just end.

…thinking all this maximalism would somehow generate happiness?

Soft flesh is eaten by hard teeth.

Why is it beautiful that humanity keeps coming back? So does herpes.

What happened? How did I get here? How could I have known that my choices mattered?

I want to change my punctuation. I long for exclamation marks, but I’m drowning in ellipses.