He exhales slowly. His fingers curl against K's palm, flex again so their fingertips press gently together.

"I dream this place and my home city are the same place. Certain cafes from here, some buildings from there. And everyone is dead. You're all walkers, except you just live your lives. I ride the bus, I buy a bagel, everything is normal except everyone is rotting. Sometimes I know I have to put you all down, so I'll talk for a while--we talk about the weather, or weekend plans. And then I put everyone down, one by one. No one ever reacts to me killing everyone I talk to, so I keep going. Then I just wake up."