'Dressed in black, only eyes popping out, I'm sure I won't attract attention. Right? Then again, I've told this myself before and I haven't. Am I an attention-seeking whore? I'll have to think about it later.'
Somehow, I'm the only person inside that smells the stench, or is bothered by it. The shops that once were brimming with people, with mouthy salesmen, coquettish girls, and food as the eye could see, are now empty.
This is not good.
Yet the riot hasn't started. The buzzing disbanded group of zombies aren't doing anything about it. Aren't they hungry? I am famished. I could eat a couple of bowls of anything appealing. Is this how-
"There's a fight broken out outside."
And yet, where's that stench coming from?
I'm getting to the bottom of that before I end up in the scuttle.