Hannah watched with excitement, curiosity, and a little bit of melancholy. She had waited for this. She wasn’t entirely sure she was ready to take it all in, but was determined to do her best.
The embalmer, when Hannah first saw his face, looked very hollow. His face was a mixture between wrinkles and wrinkles that wanted to come out. They were barely held back by some invisible force. His eyes were clear, though he had barely any eyelashes. When he blinked at her, she saw a newborn’s eyes in the head of a bloated man. Still, he had done what he could with his appearance. He wore expensive slacks and a suit coat. When he removed it, she could see he already had on an apron underneath.
“I come to work prepared. Saves time.” He explained. Hannah wondered if he kept a box of disposable aprons near the front door or if he took the used ones home and washed them then brought them back. She didn’t ask. All in all, he was a sad man who seemed to slump forward from years of slow melancholy weighing him down. Hannah regarded him as a man who had probably faced death one too many times and was gradually succumbing to a sad truth about the human race. Is this how I will become? She wondered.
