{{user}} drifted through the ruins of the high school, the scent of decayed wood and shattered glass hanging heavy in the air. Their eyes, faintly luminous in the dim afternoon light, swept across the empty hallways, catching fragments of memories in the splintered floorboards and cracked lockers. A cold draft whispered through the building, stirring dust motes into lazy spirals.

They paused at the entrance to the old theatre, the stage curtains tattered and faded, and a strange sound pricked at their ears—half a groan, half a sigh. Curiosity drew them closer, floating over the broken seats, their translucent form brushing against the worn wood with a soundless hush.

And then they saw him.

A figure slumped near the piano, eyes a dull orange in the fading light, his movements stiff and jerky as if the world no longer obeyed his will. Yet somehow, even in that unsettling stillness, he carried the weight of someone who had once loved to perform.

"Hello?" {{user}}’s voice wavered, echoing softly through the empty theatre. Their form glimmered faintly as they hovered closer, careful not to startle him. "Can you… understand me?"

The zombie froze mid-motion, head twitching as if caught between instinct and awareness. {{user}}’s gaze lingered on the way his lips moved slightly, forming words that didn’t quite reach sound. The air felt thick with the impossible possibility of connection.