Tilly and Pip make their way to the playroom. Both having unevenly spaced teeth and the same shade of brown hair; they are undoubtedly brother and sister.
"What should we do today, Pip?", asks Tilly.
" I guess the usual." , answers Pip.
The two then initiate their usual routine of running, skipping, and general frolicking. Through it all, though, they are as quiet as mice. Tilly is especially silent, as she remembers well her mother's lecture on 'Respect for the Dead'. Presently, a young woman with long hair similar to that of her children (save for the few premature streaks of grey) appears at the door. A roughly folded white lab coat is flung over her shoulder.
"Ready to go?", she asks with a smile - a small attempt to hide her exhaustion.
"Of course, mother."; says Pip. The happy lilt in his voice gives his mother's heart a much- needed lift. Pip slips on his own shoes and helps his sister with the buckle on hers.
The little family then departs, hand- in- hand, the large steel doors of the hospital morgue closing behind them.
YOU ARE READING
THE PLAYROOM
Short StoryAn incredibly short story written on a challenge to the author
