She is standing barefoot in a doorway three doors down, hands behind her back, like a child waiting to be introduced.

Her face is a face. Her hands are hands. She is the only human thing you have seen since the ward.

SayaIt's the smell, isn't it.

She says it kindly, which is somehow the worst part.

SayaEveryone smells like meat to you now. I don't. You can stand here as long as you need to.

You stand in the corridor until your legs ache.