Warm Bodies Mtrjm Kaml File

“What did you say?” she whispers.

End.

I don’t know which is right. Language is a living thing, and I have been dead for so long. Dead things don’t speak. They only moan. warm bodies mtrjm kaml

But moans are just words that forgot their shape. “What did you say

I see her sleeping on the floor of the 747. The broken windows frame a moon that looks almost fake, like a prop left over from the old world. Her hand is open. I touch her palm with one finger. Not to eat. To feel. warm bodies mtrjm kaml

I don’t have the muscles for a full sentence. I have rocks in my throat. But I push one out.

Before her, my vocabulary was small. Hungry. Cold. Grr. Argh. Lights out.