At 3:17 A.M., I was completely alone in the morgue when something beneath the white sheet suddenly caught my eye…

but by then I’d seen enough bodies to know how fast death starts to change a face.

Claire didn’t look changed enough.

Her lips were pale, but not blue. Her skin hadn’t turned gray. Her hands, resting over her stomach, looked almost soft under the overhead lights.

I told myself not to be ridiculous.

The mind plays tricks in quiet rooms.