The zombies were also there, walking around aimlessly and moaning in their low, guttural voices. They were drawn by the noise of the crowd—the people talking, laughing and crying—and they shuffled along with their arms outstretched, reaching for something they couldn't see but knew was there. Their eyes were clouded with decay and they moved slowly through the crowd like they had all the time in the world.

One of them bumped into another zombie as it walked by. The other zombie turned towards him and moaned before bumping into another zombie who turned towards him and moaned before bumping into another zombie who turned towards him… etcetera etcetera etcetera until finally they had all bumped into each other and formed one giant mass of bodies in front of my train station exit door!

I was at the train station when I saw it.

It was a zombie, but not like any zombie I'd seen before. It was more like a zombie with a job. It was wearing a suit and tie, and it had its briefcase in hand as it walked through the station without even glancing around at the other people there. The thing that really gave me chills was that it looked so normal—like if you saw that guy on the street, you'd think he was just another businessman heading to work.

But I knew better. And then he turned to face me directly, and his eyes were red and empty. He began walking toward me slowly, but with purpose—his mouth opening slightly as if he were about to say something. Then the train arrived at my platform and the doors opened up with a ding! sound.

I jumped into the car just before they closed again, turning back only briefly to see him still standing there watching me leave with an expression of pure hatred on his face…

The zombie sat on the train station bench, soaking up the sun's rays. The sun felt good on her skin, and she stretched out her arms and legs to soak it in. She had been sitting there for hours now, and she was starting to feel hungry. She hadn't eaten since yesterday morning—just before she woke up as a zombie.

The zombie got up from the bench and started walking down the street towards the nearest McDonald's. As she walked, she noticed that some of her fellow zombies were also heading toward McDonald's for lunch; this made her smile because it was nice to see other people who were just like her. She didn't want to be alone anymore; all she wanted was friends, family—someone who would love her no matter what happened next.

It was the morning rush hour and the train station was packed. People were rushing to get their daily commute in before work, but one person wasn't moving.

He was just standing there, blocking two people from getting on their train. The man didn't seem to notice that he was holding up everyone else as he stood perfectly still, staring out into space.

There were a few murmurs from the crowd of people who were waiting for him to move, but no one said anything directly to him because they didn't want to startle him out of whatever trance he was in. A few people tried to squeeze past him, but they couldn't—as soon as they got close enough for him to feel their presence, he'd move again so that they couldn't pass by.

The minutes ticked by and more people got on their trains while others left the station entirely. But still, no one could get past this man who just stood there staring into space like a statue. It was almost like watching someone sleepwalk through life—except that sleepwalking doesn't usually involve being completely motionless for hours on end at a busy train station during rush hour when things are supposed to be running smoothly!

Suddenly it happened:

I was just standing there, waiting for the train to arrive, when I felt a cold chill run down my spine.

I turned around to see what it was, but there was no one there—just me and the other commuters. I turned back around and continued waiting for my train.

Then I felt something touch my shoulder. I gasped, but no one else seemed to notice anything strange. I looked around again and saw that everyone else was just chatting with each other or staring into their phones while they waited for their train.

The thing that had touched me moved over to my other shoulder, and then it started massaging my shoulders in a slow, circular motion. It felt so good! It must have been one of those masseuses who stand near the entrance of train stations in Japan—they're always so good at giving massages!

I closed my eyes and tried to enjoy myself as much as possible before my train came. But then something started happening that made me open my eyes again: the "masseuse" wasn't massaging me anymore—it was eating me!