As the Cool air oozed around the park, its flow passed carelessly over a still figure playing dead on the grass. Back to the floor, eyes to the sky, he waited for the strength to get up and thought about a slightly sunnier time. The flow of gasses through the hairs on his limbs brought a shiver to his torso as he suddenly burst into contemplations of how many ants he might be keeping warm beneath him, how many flies are floating above him, and how high into the atmosphere they go. Aeroplankton is a real phenomenon; an astonishing feat of endurance for the very small, making him feel even colder.

He sat up and looked around, a little dazed, and started counting the ants between the blades he could see.

6 - Probably scouts. There was no trace of a nest and he was too cold to keep tracking more scouts. He quickly got to his feet and, on his way to the warmth of home, considered what it would be like to be a scout with 5 other friends exploring the wilderness. He had 6 friends in total so this wasn't so hard to imagine.

Simon doesn't count = he was a bit of a douche so he rarely considered him a friend. Fk that guy, really.

All this talk of friends and groups was making him in a slightly social mood for a change. He wondered if the others - except for Simon - would want to go Laser Tag at some point this evening. 6 is a perfect number for teams, but he was always the underdog - or wild card - which can make things more awkward when nobody wants to have him on their side

Later that evening

Being the underdog sucked in many ways, as 'friends' would either resent you if you messed up, or take all the credit in spite of you if things went well. This is why he prefers staring into the sky all afternoon. heavily Embittered, he silently parted ways and stomped off home.

Down the darkest of the dark alleys that were a prerequisite to safety, a small kitten was helplessly meowing for help. At least, so it appeared. It was probably calling for its mother who was out on a hunt. He wasn't in the mood to start investigating such a pointless endeavour.

He made a mental note to stay indoors and avoid people for a while, and instead of people, took joy in shooting zombies and monsters in his room while the dust of his mood settled. The next day, a morning orange juice refreshed him right about when Simon called, apprently having been coerced into an apology for the douche-y actions he took that shall not be named. He was ok with this. Apologies don't need to be sincere. They had a bit of a laugh down the phone and planned a proper hang out - all 7 of the gang

On the way to Simon's, he once again saw a small fluffy figure in the shadows, unmoving. To his horror, he realised the kitten had no mother, and it was clutching on to whatever life it had left within it. Without thinking, He called up and cancelled before rushing the kitten to the vets.

Googling on the way, anaemia seemed to be of primary concern but enough care could rescue the little thing - now called Zombie.

The vet thankfully had a free slot, but the doctor's face upon a glance of Zombie was not exactly comforting.

Zombie died that afternoon.