The light-topped one, called Louis, stood at his side with a rustling black bag full of yummy parts he had not gotten around to eating. Simon's mouth was occupied as he sat and licked up the sour, stinking material he'd spilled on himself. He was compelled to get it all off -it stung his skin as it dried.

"I'm going to be right back, Simon," said Louis. "Would you like me to pick you up something to eat?"

"Soup?" said Simon, testing the description he'd given his vomit.

"Sure," said Louis "Chicken noodle, cure for the uncommon zombie virus, I guess. The sodium's up there, I would imagine. It's the salt, isn't it?"

Simon's stomach was in knots -a puzzle he couldn't grasp at all. The burning in the pit of his stomach, maybe it wasn't hunger at all.

It was easy to think it was, though. And it was also easy to just sit and stare out the window. The sky was such a pretty black.

He was so tired, and he thought about nothing but his window.