Todayís June 2nd.  Itís the sixty-second anniversary of the dead coming back to life.  Itís also my twenty-fourth birthday.  Itís also the day after I had to put my father down.
    Yesterday my father died.  It wasnít from a zombie bite or anything exciting like that.  He was just getting old & sick.  Fifty is pretty old I guess.  I know my father said my grandfather was the oldest man in the city I was born in & he died when he was fifty-eight.
    I knew I should cut my dadís head off & burn his body, but I couldnít do it.  I couldnít think of his body as something separate from him until he came back trying to eat me.  Even then I had trouble cutting his head off & lighting him on fire.
    I guess I want to go back to the city Iím from.  I donít remember it at all or even know exactly where it is.  We left when I was two years old when my mom died.  My dad blamed the city for killing her & he didnít talk about the city much.  All I know is it was called Aurora.

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