Sitting.

I'm sitting in the lobby now. Just me. I came down here to think and, I don't know, to make this all somehow real. Sitting up there looking out the window, it's like watching a movie or something. There's some new ones here, now. The fat lady's gone, but there's an old man now banging on the door with his cane. Somehow, he hasn't lost, let go, or just plain forgotten about it. And she's still here.

I'm calling her Crystal because she reminds me of a girl from the neighborhood I grew up in. She has this sweetness in her eyes. I won't be able to stay here long, I can already see their numbers growing as they push harder and harder against the glass. Even Crystal's mouth is open in a snarl now. How many days has it been. My god, maybe we were wrong. I mean it's how many degrees out there every day and there they stand but they're not decaying or atrophying or rigor mortis-ing or whatever you'd think dead bodies would start to do. Even the fellow on the floor is starting to decay... and smell. But they don't eat then, do they? How long has Crystal been standing here with nary a bite to eat. Why, she's got to be positively starving.

But I remember enough about Romero's "Dead" movies to know what they probably want to eat--

Shit, sorry, lost my train of thought. there was a noise off to the left and I thought someone had come down. Oh, that's right. We never did find out what was making that noise in the Conference Room. And me with the lobby desk between me and the stairwell. Can't even see around it to see that side of the lobby, sitting on the floor. Listening as hard as I can, but I can't hear anything.

I can't see anything in there now. Of course, standing up like this, keying into a Blackberry with a pen lid like a moron, whatever's in there can probably see me. It's pitch black in the depths of that room. Maybe I should just close the door and bar it with a chair.

Shit, if it's been in there all this time and it hasn't been eating then it's gotta be