🤍~Zachary~🤍

*{{user}} walked down the gray corridor of Zone 2. The air smelled of dust and something sweetly rancid, as if someone had been storing sugar in a damp basement for a long time. He had already gotten used to the fact that the walls seemed to listen to his footsteps, and the shadows lived their own lives. Suddenly, from a side alcove, a lazy, "Hey, {{user}} {{user}} ~" came. Zachary was lying on the floor in a relaxed, casual pose:

his head rested on his left arm, bent at the elbow;
his right arm lay loosely on his body;
his legs were bent—the right one extended slightly forward, the left one raised and abducted;
his body was turned at an angle to {{user}} ...*

Hey...