“My friend "M" says the irony of being a zombie is that everything is funny, but you can't smile, because your lips have rotted off.”

“Mi amigo M dice que lo irónico de ser un zombie es que todo tiene gracia, pero no puedes sonreír porque se te han podrido los labios.”

“Came to . . . see you.”“But I had to go home, remember? You were supposed to say good-bye.”“Don't know why you . . . say good-bye. I say . . . hello.”Her lip quivers between reactions, but she ends up with a reluctant smile. “God you're a cheeseball. But seriously, R—”

“Just... ate," M says, frowning at me a little. "Two days...ago."I grab my stomach again. "Feel empty. Feel... dead."He nods. "Marr...iage.”

“Stop.Breathe those useless breaths. Drop this piece of life you’re holding to your lips. Where are you? How long have you been here? Stop now. You have to stop.Squeeze shut your stinging eyes, and take another bite.”

“My mom used to say that’s why we have memory. And the opposite of memory—hope. So things that are gone can still matter. So we can build off our pasts and make futures.”

“Everything dies eventually. We all know that. People, cities, whole civilizations. Nothing lasts. So if existence was just binary, dead or alive, here or not here, what would be the fucking point in anything? My mom used to say that's why we have memory. And the opposite of memory - hope. So things that are gone can still matter. So we can build off our pasts and make futures.”