Stare at her boobs.

You find that you can't help but look at her heaving tits, pressed as they are against the glass. The grey-green mounds are pushed flat against the transparent material, dusky nipples forming little circles. Her shoulder-length black hair messily hangs from her head as she tries fruitlessly to get in, clawing away at the glass. Her face, too, is smushed up to the glass pane, and you can clearly see her eyes - they're totally white, without any pupils. She looks like a... zombie.

A lot of thoughts are going through your head right now. Your first thought is that she's playing a prank, or maybe she's drunk or something. Your every mental fiber resists ever considering that zombies could be real; zombies are only in movies and video games. They couldn't possibly be real. The "you" that you imagine in your head, carving through undead hordes with a chainsaw, has a lot of difficulty coming out. You're just not prepared at all to see something like this; something that goes completely against everything you understand to be a part of reality. It's surreal. It's just not something that can actually happen.

Footsteps approach the crowd. It's the shift supervisor, and she's not happy to see everybody wasting time.