"I was staring at myself in the little mirror of the morgue washroom with the scared piss pouring out of me, feeling nauseous from the smell of the antiseptics, feeling pissed at the clinical demeanor of the mortician and all the other little assistants who buzzed in and out of stainless steel doorways so officiously, those doors which open so smoothly and close with such a firm and final click."
No comments:
Post a Comment