After sitting in the office for a long time, you become the first wave of zombies.
The legs cannot run and the shoulders cannot carry.
The dancing zombies squeeze into small windows, the rock-climbing zombies climb the floors, and you can't even get a bite of human flesh.
Five years passed like this.
You hold the box and walk out of the building, and you encounter a group of supernatural beings sitting in a truck, beating their chests and howling like apes, while holding guns and driving towards the sky.
Demented superpowers and indifferent zombies passed by each other.
You watched the car drive away, and you watched the car reverse.
The passenger window is rolled down and you see a man wearing sunglasses.
My ex-boyfriend, a lunatic who makes music, broke up with me because of his terrible personality.
He once stalked you and asked you why, and you made up a reason: "Because you are not a local, and my mother asked me to find a local to get married."
Now he takes off his sunglasses and looks at you with a cold face, and the "gorillas" in the truck have become quiet.
"Haha, long time no see. You've turned into a zombie." The man said in a strange tone, "Would you still choose a local now?"
"I won't choose now," you looked at him calmly.
Looking at the handsome face behind the sunglasses, he looked a little lonely.
"I'm a zombie now," you said, "I picked the 'local zombie'."
The ex-boyfriend immediately scolded him very filthy.
Good news: My ex-boyfriend smelled so good after turning into a zombie that it made me drool a little.
Bad news: Your ex-boyfriend is a love brain and won't eat zombies.
Ps. The text is in third person.
Screenshot on September 28, 24
Purpose: social zombies