Raven
doesn't see a door at first glance, so he approaches an ageing
security guard.
“Which way
to the gents?” He barks at the man.
“Whut?”
The guard replies.
“The
gents? The toilet, loo, lavy, rest room, WC, public convenience,”
Raven replies “A place where one can do one's business?”
“Back o'
th' store.” The guard gestures vaguely.
Raven takes
the quickest route he can through the aisles, but his progress is
hampered by the shoppers, who seem ignorantly determined to get in
his way. Finally he spots a door. Racing towards it, he repeats the
word “Market” over and over.
He pushes
the door but it doesn't budge. He pushes again, but the door is
firmly locked.
Somebody
walks into him, emitting a low moan as they do
“I'm
terribly sorry...” he says, turning towards her, shocked to see her
face is rotting away.
