P14 – Cleo oder eine kurze, beschwerliche Reise ohne Happy End

We should take her hands down now, away from her face, and place them, folded, on her belly, shouldn’t we?

We’ve tried, but it’s impossible, because rigor mortis has already developed.

She’s buried her face in her hands because she was crying.

Why, no! She was laughing. She just couldn’t stop laughing.

Or maybe it was because it was too bright around her? She wanted to protect her eyes from the brightness. With her hands.

Perhaps she’s hiding something beneath them.

I would like to look at her face one more time.

Yes, so would I. Maybe it isn’t her after all?

Of course it is her. It’s Cleo.