As you stare through the glass, Francis comes into view. Those beautiful yet tired eyes lock with yours. His pristine white uniform is covered in splatters and splotches of blood. He drags a DDD hazmat uniformed body with him.

The milkman comes to a stop in front of the glass and drops the body, which hits the floor with a heavy thump. His hand comes to rest on the glass, smearing blood between you.

“Rabbit,” he says in greeting, in his slow, smooth voice, “have you missed me?”