Day 234

The last one left about thirty years ago.
10964 days to be precise.
I should know, sunlight comes through a small window.
I marked every day on every surface I could.

The others used to be so irritated by this but now they're just tired.
We all need to rest but there's nobody to help us anymore.
The door is rusted shut and with the air conditioning broken we rot faster.

Mrs Schon can't even move anymore, the flesh on her limbs is gone and her torso's just as bad.
It's even worse for Mr Verdat... he's mainly a fleshy puddle... everything's just going.
The Old Lady in box 39 is only bones now, never knew her name but she's been here longest.

I'm heading that way myself but I still manage to get around enough to note the day.
Nobody knows where the attendants went to, where the morticians are.

We need to rest, have they no consideration?
Every day someone will say we should break down the door and go find a priest while others dig
our burial holes but we're too weak now.

In all fairness though we only figured out how to move as the last Living One went for good.
We've long since stopped with the "what if's" and wondering if we could have at least tried harder
to move or signal or speak.

We can't really speak now, we just sort of know what we're all thinking.
Sometimes we hear others outside.
Other Dead Ones.

They seem so fresh but their thoughts are all about hunger.

As Mr Verdat says, even Dead Kids have no manners.