I stared, entranced at the curly white hair that held desperately to a few strands of its original brown. The nose and cheekbones were the same, only covered with a skin that had wrinkled and leathered with age...but it was definitely me.

The curtain suddenly scraped open. My breakfast sprinted through my intestine.

A house-keeper stood there, staring. I must have been a sight; pale face, red eyes leaking tears, limbs trembling, and holding hands with a corpse!

"I can come back." She spoke calmly.

Was she so polite that she wouldn't mention the fact that there was a dead man sitting up on the stretcher, or was she that dim-witted?

"No. I, uh..." I turned, and to my amazement, my friend the corpse was no longer sitting beside me. He lay supine, completely covered under the shroud, just as he was when I first entered the room. Perhaps as he always had been.

"I'm finished here...thank you." I rushed past her. I opened my cell phone, using it as a shield to hide my face as I hustled through the ER, out the door, and into the nearest restroom.

Vomit danced in my throat.

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