Ladles clatter on beat up tin dishes. Unidentifiable gray-green mush, cold hard green beans, and slimy peaches swim together as they are carelessly dumped into these bowls. The bowls are quivering; their owners' hands tremble uncontrollably. After hours of waiting, the two sit on the cold, dusty ground and eat with their hands. They have no utensils. There is no color here, no light. Everything is gray, washed out. Even her sparkling emerald eyes have lost their color, haunted by things she has seen, void of all emotion save it be grief and hopelessness. His teasing smile is dead, buried in memories of better times. There is no laughter here. No joy. Nobody smiles. Nobody speaks. They just sit on this dusty floor here in these desolate, barrack-like "homes". All life is gone from their every movement. They are breathing, emaciated corpses. And as she slumps to the ground, her final memories are of this last meal and the blue tattoo on his forearm... 598764.