PREVIEW

... whisper of palm fronds, and the faint squelch of decomposing feet in the sand.

I sat with my legs kicked up, a frozen drink in hand, sunglasses I definitely didn’t buy perched on my nose, and a mutated zombie waiter standing patiently nearby with a tray of tropical fruit. His jaw was slightly unhinged from his beachball like head, his eyes milky white, but he wore his bowtie with pride. One of the pineapples on the tray even had a tiny umbrella in it.

It was so cute that I couldn ...

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