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My dear friend, do you know how much I miss you? The burning red clouds may have engulfed your body, but your voice and smile still linger in my mind.
At the office of Survivor’s Daily, Hal, who was sitting on a small stool by the window, held an empty wine bottle. He burped occasionally as he awkwardly recited his poetry.
Usually, no one paid him any attention.
To most employees, he seemed to just be looking for an excuse to daydrink. Flattering him brought no benefits. Instead, it might result in being dragged into his endless drunken babblings, making it impossible to finish their day's tasks.
"Did your lover die?"
"Lover? Burp… Heh, how shallow are you? This is written for my best frien…" Hal burped again, his slurred speech cutting off mid-sentence as he suddenly froze.
He turned, only to look at the entrance of the office where a figure stood.
He had a backpack and an assault rifle slung beside it, looking exactly as he did when he left a week ago. Not a scratch could be seen on h...
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