In Case of a Zombie Apocalypse Loganne Van Veen • Nonfiction
The room is a lot to take in upon first glance. There are clothes strewn about, from the floor to the bed to the black futon. Posters litter the walls—there’s two of Margot Robbie in Suicide Squad, a Deadpool poster, a Lego Pirates of the Caribbean and Lego The Lord of the Rings, as well as some hand drawn ones, a poster of Hollyn, a white shirt hanging from a nail, and a framed collage of family members along with several other decorations I can’t identify. A The Walking Dead poster hangs from the ceiling along with a poster featuring all the Marvel characters and a poster from The Last of Us—an apocalyptic survival game. Heavy brown curtains hang from the windows above the trundle bed which is covered with salmon sheets and several mismatched pillows. A Green Bay Packers blanket draped over the foot of the bed. A desk/dresser combo takes up the width of the wall next to the door, and it is stuffed full of unorganized knick-knacks, like a map of the USA, a pink lava lamp, a stuffed Pluto, a Packers Christmas hat, cleaning spray, a soccer Easter basket, and a nerf gun. So much personality screams at you from every inch of this room that it feels almost invasive to take it all in. 32 •
