The middle-aged man sat in his office late one warm summer’s evening. He was finishing up some important paperwork that was already a day overdue. He had called to tell his wife that he would be late and not to keep dinner for him. He’d just reheat it or grab something on the way home. His job paid well, and despite the heavy time commitment, he was able to spend real quality time with his wife at least once a week. His work and his wife were the only things in his life. Their home was located in the better part of town, and his savings had just reached the six figure mark. All in all, life was good.
John looked up from his desk, and from the blue pants, had expected to see the evening janitor.
“John Troutman?” The officer spoke in a serious tone.
“Yes, that’s me.”
“You had better come with me, sir.”
“What’s the matter?” The beginning stages of panic showed in the executive’s voice.
“Sir, there’s been an accident…”
“No! Sarah! Is she all right?” The officer looked down at the floor. “Is she all right?” The voice rose high with fear.
“Sir, we can’t be certain without a positive I.D….”
“No! She can’t be… She can…” John broke into sobs, his body shuddered, tears rolled down his face. The officer stood there, sympathetic with a touch of embarrassment for this man who was now bearing his soul.
After a considerable time, the officer spoke up, “Mr. Troutman, we have a car waiting downstairs. If you come with me… It may not be her.
John looked up, his blue eyes red and puffy with only a glimmer of hope. “Yeah, sure, it may not be…” He stood from his chair and followed the man downstairs to the car. The world and ride were nothing but a blur of light, shadow and sound with nothing able to break through the haze which had consumed John. The walk into the white, sterilized building didn’t even register. Even the pulling out of the steel drawer containing the sheet-covered corpse had a dream like quality.
Then life came into sharp focus. The coroner’s silver wristwatch, his hairy arm and hand, his less than clean fingers which had a slightly unreal pink tinge to them, his fingernails cut short, almost suggesting that he chewed them. The coroner couldn’t have gone any more slowly or precisely to the edge of that sheet. He pulled it back, revealing the fine, black, straight hair, the slightly wrinkled forehead, the beautiful eyes closed as if in sleep, the nose attractively long especially against the lusciously wide mouth.
“Sarah!” It was a scream that bounced off the walls and continued to reverberate afterwards. John collapsed onto the body, cradling it, crying, rocking back and forth.
John looked up from his desk, and from the blue pants, had expected to see the evening janitor.
“John Troutman?” The officer spoke in a serious tone.
“Yes, that’s me.”
“You had better come with me, sir.”
“What’s the matter?” The beginning stages of panic showed in the executive’s voice.
“Sir, there’s been an accident…”
“No! Sarah! Is she all right?” The officer looked down at the floor. “Is she all right?” The voice rose high with fear.
“Sir, we can’t be certain without a positive I.D….”
“No! She can’t be… She can…” John broke into sobs, his body shuddered, tears rolled down his face. The officer stood there, sympathetic with a touch of embarrassment for this man who was now bearing his soul.
After a considerable time, the officer spoke up, “Mr. Troutman, we have a car waiting downstairs. If you come with me… It may not be her.
John looked up, his blue eyes red and puffy with only a glimmer of hope. “Yeah, sure, it may not be…” He stood from his chair and followed the man downstairs to the car. The world and ride were nothing but a blur of light, shadow and sound with nothing able to break through the haze which had consumed John. The walk into the white, sterilized building didn’t even register. Even the pulling out of the steel drawer containing the sheet-covered corpse had a dream like quality.
Then life came into sharp focus. The coroner’s silver wristwatch, his hairy arm and hand, his less than clean fingers which had a slightly unreal pink tinge to them, his fingernails cut short, almost suggesting that he chewed them. The coroner couldn’t have gone any more slowly or precisely to the edge of that sheet. He pulled it back, revealing the fine, black, straight hair, the slightly wrinkled forehead, the beautiful eyes closed as if in sleep, the nose attractively long especially against the lusciously wide mouth.
“Sarah!” It was a scream that bounced off the walls and continued to reverberate afterwards. John collapsed onto the body, cradling it, crying, rocking back and forth.