Sterile and clean, but dirty nonetheless. Scrubs shuffle around me. Beep...beep...beep. The other deceased reach out to the new patient. There will be no warning that he can hear, not yet. Antiseptic, alcohol, antiseptic, but why, why!? Why is it still so dirty here. I can feel his spirit, struggling, willing itself to survive. The living don't know, how could they. They can't see, it's not the experimental medicine, it's not the disease. It's him, H I M. The nurse
Another body, another sheet. He's always sterile and clean, yet still dirty.
