Real

"What I really like about you, Sarah," Clark toasted, "is that you KEEP IT REAL." The others cheered and raised their glasses. "What you like about me is my ACTING," Sarah replied laughing. "I do not, on purpose, ever keep it real. This is an exquisitely maintained facade, and I am not going to bring it down for future zombies at a common mortal day job. I want to spare myself all of that annoying screaming and crying." She grinned and sipped her drink. Their smiles hesitated, fell, and then resumed; the confusion was delicious. They would chide her for being weird and creepy, tie it all to Halloween, and get profoundly drunk. Sarah would watch them, on the fence about wiping their memories, eyes glowing, reflecting on how the finites were both clueless and endearingly plucky.