The Corpse

THERE as still and quiet as dead.

Sleeping...? Yes. The walls had grown used to the scene. The dreams tired of the same actors with different faces. The dead take care of their own. The corpse lit the room's lamp and in the gray dark began to work. It bathed the perpetually sleeping bod that lay in bed. Trimmed the hair and applied blush to its cheeks. The sleeping know nothing of the awakened world; the dead know nothing of the sleeping but that they sleep the deepest of all. Dripping, the legs were dried. The sleeper's eyes opened. The corpse closed them with the coldest of fingers. Placing the stiff scrub brush upon the nightstand the corpse was pleased with the Sleeper. And smiled.