Mallory sat cross-legged in the middle of the living room, frowning at the ancient board game she had unearthed from one of the many mysterious compartments her apartment had suddenly decided to provide. "Zombie-opoly," she muttered, turning the box over in her hands. "A property game for the undead. Who comes up with this stuff?"
Blinky beeped curiously from its position on the coffee table, its antenna glowing faintly.
"You think this is funny?" Mallory asked, holding up the game. "This is literally my life now."
Alex, sprawled on the couch with his feet propped on the armrest, looked up from his book. "I think it's poetic."
Greg, who was cleaning a rifle at the kitchen counter, snorted. "More like ironic. You're living in a zombie apocalypse, playing a game about zombies. What's next, a cooking show?"
Mallory's eyes lit up with a mischievous glint. She turned to Blinky, tapping its metal casing like a drum. "Did you hear that? Cooking show!"
