Microfiction By Daphne Lee
She watched the dead walk by, in single file. They did not look dead. Not rotten. Not grey. But if you looked carefully, you noticed that their eyes were unfocused and they dragged their feet slightly. There were men and women of all races and ages; there were children. One woman carried a baby. An old man shuffled by, his arms held out to his sides, as if for balance.
‘Ke mana mereka pergi?’
‘Entah,’ said Azrul. ‘Where can they go?’
‘I mean …,’ she licked her lips, ‘they must be going somewhere. Right?’
He shrugged and glanced back at her. He gestured in the direction of the long, long procession. “You have to find out for yourself.’
She took a step back, her hands closing into tight fists. “But I’m not—’ Adam’s expression stopped her from continuing.
‘It’s OK,’ he said. ‘It’s early days. You’ll get used to being dead.’