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Zombie Dance

*Isla*

I am standing in the ballroom.

My dress is long and blue, probably to bring out my eyes. It seems like every time I go to a ball or something of that nature, someone comes to dress me, and they tell me that I should wear blue to bring out my eyes. Or sometimes they tell me I should wear red to accent my lips or hair.

I am wearing blue today, so I can only assume my eyes are sparkling….

Crowds of people flutter around. I am nervous. I am scared. I can’t remember why. I walk between the other people, many of which are simply standing around the perimeter of the dance floor, talking to one another, eating the snacks that float by on trays carried by well-dressed waiters with impeccable manners. All of them have a beverage in their hand.

My blue dress swirls around me as I walk. I am uncomfortable. I don’t want to be here.

A woman is laughing loudly; it’s almost a cackle. Her face is a bit fuzzy as she turns to look at me, but she continues to laugh. Why is she off-kilter?

The whol
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