The zombie was chill—er, room temperature, but still, he was chill. Didn’t talk too much, for starters, ate little; he didn’t bother me. He couldn’t bother me. He was locked up behind that screen, and they told me they had taken out all his teeth. Couldn’t hurt no one. Anyway, long nights cleaning up their labs and whatnot, spent a lot of time together. You start to bond, you know? I guess I’m anthropomorphizing him, or re-anthropomorphizing. I don’t know when I started to think of him as a friend, whether it was before or after I named him.
Drabble: My Friend the Zombie
Tale Told 