letters to vacationing co-workers week, day three

Hello truants,

You know how in zombie movies, there's always some scene at the end when the survivors emerge from the basement/ bar/ treehouse they've been hiding in, and they survey the wreckage of their formerly peaceful town? The streets are empty. Debris and dead bodies cover all surfaces. Usually, there are cars gushing radiator fluid, maybe a fence swinging in the wind, stains all over the pavement, and newspapers blowing everywhere.

Sometimes there will be a lonely old man or some shit picking his way down the street. His clothes will be in tatters and he'll have a glassy look in his eye (grey five o'clock shadow, maybe). He's the only other survivor in view, but the intrepid band of heroes will never know his harrowing story. He ambles by, kicking through some loose trash and weakly calling the name of his missing wife/son/dog.

By the time you all return to work, I will resemble that old man.

Marcel Parcells