Tabitha looked up at the ceiling fan in the café she was sitting at, drinking her regular cup of tea as was the usual for wednesday mornings. She wondered how well someone could hurt themselves if they died razorbarbed wire around their neck and hung themselves from the ceiling fan. She also wondered how fun it would be if the ceiling fan was made out of steel which would cut her head into little slices if it fell.
These are the kind of thoughts Tabitha had. They weren’t based on any depression, just sort of wild irrating humor that Tabitha had. Sort of like an inside joke between friends, except its just with one person and is derranged visions of your death.
Of course she realized it was sort of weird thinking like that, but she couldn’t help enjoy it. Not because of the event, but seeing the people’s reaction to that happening in the middle of the café.
People wouldn’t just brush it off as nothing if they have any sense what so ever. They’d probably be concerned, then Tabitha imagines them looking at her, ready to call the ambulance when she stands up and is just dandy.
That is the kind of humor only a cyborg zombie would appreciate, snickering over their morning tea.