The woman’s cold fingers twitched as the doctor worked on her. I could not see what he was doing because he stood in front of her with his back turned toward me. He hummed as he worked. Finally, he turned around with his two hands holding out a dark red hunk of an organ. “Her heart,” he said. I nodded and looked at the cadaver woman as the doctor placed the organ into an opaque white canister.
The Thin Grey Line
Short stories about death
A Ghost of Solitude
As the man’s boots crunched through the twigs and leaves along the mountain path, his thoughts went back to his wife. Her funeral was last Sunday. Breast cancer, and she was only forty-one. God had taken the last thing he truly loved in life. Now he just walked. Morning until night, he walked his empty Earth. Was God really so cruel?