The Shape
He pulled back the heavy white sheet, exposing her cold skin as hot tears stung his eyes. How could this human shape on a table be his beloved. This shape once made him laugh so hard that beer came out of his nose. This shape used to draw circles on his chest while they listened to the rain. This shape gave him shape. He pleaded mentally with the hooded figure hiding in the darkness to deliver himself the same fate. As cruelly as the executioner had taken a life with one hand, he stepped back into the shadows and spared a life with the other. The broken hearted man retreated to his own corner and fell into memories, now forever tainted by the vision of his beloved shape on a table.