A cold evening in February. The streetlights; little bright orbs in the dark night sky. The moon; obscured by clouds, nowhere to be seen.

An elderly couple walking down the street, hand in hand. Mr and Mrs Choul had just finished their first date in years. 

They walked together, through the streets to the door of their apartment building. Mr Choul shakily took out his keys, the air icy cold on his exposed fingers.

“Dear,” Mrs Choul said, pointing her finger into the semi-darkness near the door, “What is that?”

Mr Choul gave the keys to his wife and ventured closer. A strange liquid pooled at his feet. He didn’t know if his eyes were playing with him, but it looked a lot like blood.

He gulped, a feeling of dread washing over him, before he walked on. His foot bumped into something hard and he almost toppled over. He frowned. It was too dark for him to see.

Suddenly, the street light above his head flickered on, and the corpse beneath his feet was basked in light.