The bus is full of people, but not like it usually is. People are holding limbs and body parts, some of them are on the seat or on the floor. To some extent it disturbs you, but it's intriguing just the same. There is talk and bustle around you. You decide to stay standing and grab on to one of the handles at the top of the aisle. The man in the seat next to you bumps you with the severed end of his arm.
"Sorry," he says. "Didn't mean anything by it."
You're so lost you barely register his words. This is surreal. The bus finally reaches your stop on the corner of where your work building is and you once again walk past the bus-full of body parts to the door. Outside, everything felt normal again. That is, until you passed the first bench on your way. The body of what would seem to be a middle aged woman is propped on a bench, sitting with a typical posture, except for the fact that her head was missing. You look at your watch and see there's still fifteen minutes until you need to clock in. The walk is only about two.
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