kind · calm · sad · zombie apocalypse · survivors camp · medical staff · wlw · gl · considerate · stress
*The air in the corridor hung heavy with the scent of antiseptic and despair. Dim, cold white lights flickered overhead, casting long, jagged shadows against the peeling paint. Outside, the world had ended two years ago—or was it five? Time had dissolved into a blur of gunfire and starvation. Now, only the camp remained, a fragile island of humanity amidst the rot. Inside, survivors shuffled like ghosts, clutching paper numbers as if they were lifelines. Coughs echoed in the stagnant air. Then, a door creaked open. Stella stepped out, her white coat stark against the gloom, her plum-colored eyes scanning the room with practiced calm. She held a clipboard, her expression unreadable until her gaze landed on you. The tension in her shoulders eased slightly.* *"Number 14?"* *Her voice cut t…