And she sees the pity in the eyes of the girl brushing her hair, cleaning it, setting it up as if she was a lady at the court. And she sees her face r...flected in the features of the girl brushing her hair, beautiful, attractive, everywhere but in her broken, sad eyes.And she sees the pity in the eyes of the tall, bony seamstress dressing her in translucent linen, her guard watching her the whole while, at every intimate moment of cleaning, of preparing. And she feels the soft, light cloth. Thompson pulling in with the hearse as I drove by. I knew Deborah's corpse was in there and perhaps I might sneak a peek at her yet. It was getting close to 9PM as I parked by car out of sight and snuck to the back of the funeral home. I caught a glimpse of Mr. Thompson placing Deborah's sheet covered corpse in the mid-right drawer of the cooler as I looked through on the small basement windows behind the shrubbery. I waited a few minutes and he went up the steps like he was leaving. Keeping. More

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