“My only vice is a videogame. Oh, boy, I can play that all day long.” My squad and I’ve been shooting day to night for weeks now. Outside a monster prevents humans from breathing, in an account of that, a preventive quarantine was enforced on everybody. Some people infected return to their baby’s stages, in a fight for dear life, as if the umbilical cord that before conveyed food, now coils around the chest (as an Octopus’ tentacle) squeezing it until the end in days, months. People standing in the streets unexpectedly fall, given me the impression that my VR pistol independently turned to the window discharging on passersby. I’ve just told my friends I saw from my window a guy collapsing in the corner, someone suggested might be someone we know from the neighborhood, a friend, a store clerk, and want me to check it out. “Guys, probably he…