School Teen Zombies

It was a strange morning. It's 6:00am-ish - the time Copper can't stand to wait anymore for his walk and starts whining. It's fall. It's cold out, a kind of misty fog hangs in the air. And it's dark. Daylight savings time only makes it worse, making it so dark I can't see to my feet some mornings. But today is dark enough. We head out on our walk, the dogs tags jingling in the stillness. Copper keeps stopping dead in his tracks and staring off into the distance. I think it's a rabbit, but I don't see anything. "Go," I tell him. He walks a bit, then stops up short again, his ears perked, eyes intently staring down the side street. I look and finally see what has captured his attention. Teens walking down the street, their too-early-morning shuffle walk, shoulders slumped under the weight of their book bags, hoodies pulled up over their heads so no one can make eye contact with them. Through the dark and the fog, they look like zombies coming to get us. "Go," I tell Copper, and we quicken our pace, only to come up upon more of these school teen zombies, all shuffling to their converging point down the street - the bus stop - where they will be shuttled off to the their mass sarcophagus and their brains feed with education.