Grey's journal (Maya)

Today while foraging for supplies at Royal Oak Apartments, I came across a woman still living in one of the units. Her name is Maya. She appears to be in her late 30s, with long purple hair, a dark complexion, and deep turquoise eyes. She is tall, nearly as tall as me, and has all about her an almost intoxicating quality of womanliness that I don't think I've ever seen before. My bro might describe her more succinctly as a MILF, but it appears as if she lives on her own.

When I found her, she had a revolver to her temple. She turned it on me when she noticed me in her room. And yet I sit here back at home, writing this journal entry, having been fed a full-course meal of bacon and eggs, courtesy of Maya's top-shelf cooking skills. I still have no idea what happened in the interim, but apparently she doesn't think of me as a threat.

I'm pretty sure I saved her from committing suicide.

I'm not at all certain of what to think about Maya. She is quite strange. As I ate the food that she cooked for me, she asked me an endless series of questions about myself -- my name and age, occupation, what I was studying in school, and on and on. Even more strangely, she seemed genuinely interested in hearing the answers to these things. When I finally did manage to get away from the conversation and leave, she looked devastated.

I think she may still be a danger to herself. I should check on her sometime soon.