A dull thumping awakes me from semi-unconsciousness. I unwind the insulating tape that holds the sponges that cover my ears: someone is knocking on my door. I wind my way through the piles of decay between my hiding place and the doorway.

"Hello?" I ask.
There's no one there.
"Erm..." I suggest.
Then an arm emerges, long and pale. At the business end of it, the 'hand' presents me with an offering: a can of Condensed Milk. Then the owner of the hand appears: a large, elderly man, naked but for a pair of swimming goggles and a small blue hand-towel.

"Merry Christmas," he says, wandering back to his own room, "dairy products make me feel weird, you have it."
"Thanks..." I say.

Rollo Kim