Cup refilled and steaming, Roland set to changing his gloves after having sanitized this instruments, their shiny steel bones glinting with cold dew clinging to their razor edges. He centered himself a moment, squeezing at his thumb until the latex creaked, then gripped the handle to the next drawer--hopefully, this one wouldn't be such a chore after those last few. This one was a fresh intake, and hadn't been through the initial preparation stages yet--it would be a longer project, which meant more time to get to know the body. More time for bad jokes.

Roland opened the drawer.

A cool huff of icy steam, and the holding table extended, revealing the next guest to the party. The frame was smaller, thinner, younger than the previous nights' clients--a girl, maybe late teens, early twenties, college age, semi-athletic. Dark skin blued by her time in the freezer and from livor mortis, joints locked up at awkward angles--not necessarily from the cold, her muscles having frozen into place as recent as this morning, as late as a full day prior. As a consequence, her head was turned stiff at an angle facing away from Roland, chin looking almost fused to her shoulder--it was an unfortunate accident that had brought her here, but save for the obvious distortions and some minor surface level scuffs, she made for a model car victim given how much repair such bodies often needed.

"Who's there?"

She sounded sleepy, almost as if she had just awoken from a nap. In a way, she had.

Roland positioned himself at the head of the table, keeping his tone professional but convivial as he spoke. "Good evening--you've been delivered to Palimpsest Mortuary; my name is Roland, and I will be your undertaker. I trust you are not in any pain?"

"Not especially," she replied, voice still strained as if with sleep. "Kinda bright in here though--and I feel kind of stiff?"

"In a moment, I will address that after I've moved you from refridgeration to the preparation surface," Roland replied. "I'm afraid stiffness will be unavoidable, given your current standing, but at the very least I can do my part to relieve some of the discomfort that comes with it and restore you to a more natural resting position. Do you have any questions for me?"

"Yeah, only like a billion." She sounded like she was attempting a yawn, but of course, none came. "Listen, I'm really loving your wallpaper right now, but if it's all the same..."

"Ah, yes, of course, let's begin," Roland agreed, wheeling the gurney in beside her. "A short hop and a skip, and we'll have you ready to begin." He was already moving her as he spoke, all the quickness of a practiced mortician who was used to high volume worknights--she slid with ease onto the gurney, her flesh crackling a bit with ligaments that popped and softened beneath Roland's warm hands. "You will likely be taking up the bulk of my evening, given you're still in need of sanitizing before I move on to the draining--"

"Whoa, whoa, easy there Dr. Phibes, maybe let's take a second to explore the space between us before you go full deli market on me?"

Roland paused, catching himself. "Of course, I apologize. Let me get you onto the table, and we can introduce ourselves before I continue. Ready?"

"Hang on." She went silent a moment, to Roland's confusion, before he got the joke. "Naw I'm kidding, go ahead, plop me down."

He didn't plop so much as slide, her bruised flesh sliding smoothly onto the mirror steel surface. Roland hadn't yet gotten the best look at the young woman's face, given her skeletal contortions, and was currently speaking directly at her pierced ear tucked behind her dense dreads. "This table is where I'll be readying you for your final commitments--I'm Roland, your mortician for the evening. It is not unusual for cadavers to have questions, so while I will do what I can to focus on my work, please don't hesitate to ask if--"

"You here alone tonight?"

Roland's eye twitched. "Yes, I am."

"So you might say you're..."

She didn't even finish the sentence before Roland was recoiling with a grimace.

"...Working the graveyard shift?" She cackled mischievously. "I'm Letty, by the way."

Roland took a moment to exhale, wiping his glasses on his tie as he did. "Oh? The intake list has you down as 'LaToya' Boudreaux..."

"Yeahhh, but that name was kinda...not great? I got named after my, like, Meemaw's Meemaw, so I just asked everyone to call me Letty, instead." She took a beat. "Is it normal that we all just speak in the past tense about our lives?"

"Yes, that is normal," Roland confirmed, positioning his hands delicately over Letty's neck. "Normally I would begin the sanitizing process before addressing rigor mortis, but given how it likely isn't the most comforting to speak to a wall, I'll start by massaging out your neck and shoulder muscles so we can at least continue speaking face to face. Is that acceptable?"

"God yes," Letty thanked him, and Roland's thumbs and fingertips immediately set to targeting the pressure points that would release her neck from its twisted state. "How'd I get here, anyway? I mean, I can probably guess, the last thing I remember was being in a crosswalk..."

"Yes, that sounds like that would be the case. You were, I'm sorry to say, struck by an automobile--beyond that, my knowledge of the incident is limited only to the most clinical parameters."

"A hit-and-run? You mean I got isekai'd, but for real? Man, that's ass," Letty bemoaned.

Roland continued to massage, her head slowly rotating towards him. "I'm not familiar with that term, what is...?"

"Oh, sorry, usually everyone I talked to was, like, the biggest dork," Letty explained. "It's like a whole genre of anime, the hero is walking home or is running late for school, and then crossing a street they just get absolutely bodied by a truck, then they wake up in some mystical land where they have magic powers or whatever..."

Roland's brow furrowed. "I'll admit to being somewhat behind on my anime quota, but...this is a common mechanism for storytelling?"

"Like you wouldn't believe, though we've thankfully crested that particular hill as far as trends go," Letty said--she was speaking to the ceiling now, her features easing into view. "I didn't even get sent to any kind of cool fantasy world, though? Man..."

"Not unless you consider a mortuary to be at all magical," Roland offered, a small smile teasing at the corners of his mouth.

"Well, I will say this for you guys, you are a lot better conversationalists than I expected." At last, Letty's neck was straightened fully, and her eyes blinked away their unfocused gaze before turning to look at Roland.

For a moment, his breath caught in his chest.

Letty just stared, emotionless. "All good, kid?"

Roland swallowed, and waved away an imaginary pest. "Yes, just--the first stage will require some trust between us, as it involves washing and--if it is called for--shaving."

Letty gasped dramatically. "You're gonna shave me? Bro, that is so not cash-money--!"

"Only if it is called for," Roland repeated, holding up a submissive hand. "I always take my clients' requests into consideration when it comes to cosmetic matters, though I will still need to wash you, as per procedure. Do I have your permission to attend to that, and all that it implies?"

"Yeah, sure, let 'er rip." Letty looked up at the ceiling once more. "Though that's normal procedure, you don't...really need my permission, right?"

Roland readied the nearby hose, thumbing through the flow settings of the head attachment. "Given that my relationship with the cadavers that pass through Palimpsest are somewhat more personable than the average mortician, I make it a point to ask permission anyway--it lends my work a bit more..." He tapped the nozzle thoughtfully. "...Humanity. I'll be using warm water, that should help with more of your stiffness as we move on to relaxing and massaging your limbs to present a more 'natural' image of you at rest. Would you prefer arms at your sides, or hands folded over the middle?"

Letty sounded excited at this. "Ooh, I get to choose? Can I maybe do something, like, hands up on my face and mouth wide, make it seem like I was pulling a Macaulay Culkin when I got flattened?"

This story has been unlawfully obtained without the author's consent. Report any appearances on Amazon.

Roland allowed himself a small chuckle in spite of himself as he set to washing, taking care to spend more time as needed on the joints that would require flexing. "Keep in mind, I do have to respect the wishes of the family, as they wouldn't necessarily be privy to what you and I discuss."

"'A lovely cheese pizza, just for me,'" Letty quoted. "You said you were behind on your anime, was that your 'cool old guy' way of saying 'I don't watch that kid cartoon nonsense,' or--?"

Roland thought for a moment. "Somewhat, though I am not entirely unfamiliar with the medium, I'm positive I've seen one or two pieces in my time..."

"Your kids make you watch 'Spirited Away' with them? A tale as old as time," Letty reassured him. "Though that's practically, like, Disney at this point, so it barely counts..."

"No, no I'm sure I exposed myself to it on my own terms," Roland said, shaking his head. He had made it all the way up to her neck with the hose, the warm water beading in loosely gathered bubbles at her collarbone. "I can't quite remember the name of the one I'm thinking of..."

"Wait, let me guess," Letty interjected. "Magic Boy?"

Roland shook his head, eyebrow raising. "Not familiar...I'm sensing a joke aimed at my age that isn't quite hitting the mark?"

Letty giggled nervously. "Yeah, it was...first ever anime movie released in American cinemas."

Roland brandished the hose in warning. "And that was in the year of our Lord..."

Letty showed her teeth in a sheepish grin. "1961?"

"Oh no."

Roland doused her with the sanitizer, spraying her full in the face.

When Letty resurfaced, pursing her lips together to dry them, her eyes held a newfound sense of respect for her elders. "I deserved that."

"I was born in '75, thank you very much," Roland said haughtily, returning the hose to its rightful resting place, casting Letty a sideways look of mock offense as he did. "You're quite knowledgable on this subject--hobby or educated?"

"Column A, column B," Letty replied, not giving any indication she could feel Roland scrubbing at the soles of her feet--given the lack of a functional nervous system, she could not, of course. "You ever have to take a class, and while like ninety percent of it is the boring and obvious stuff everyone's required to do, every once in a while something just pops up that lets you personally glom onto it? Yeah, that was me in International Art History, I got really into Japan's whole Edo period--like, this tiny little island nation, separated from the world and basically throwing hands with anyone who gets too close to their shores, yet in the 17th century they're having pretty much the same level of artistic revival as the Netherlands or Spain or--"

Letty cut herself off, seeming somewhat embarrassed. "Sorry, like I said before about the dorks. I don't mean to ramble on."

"No no, it's quite alright," Roland said, realizing at the same time Letty said this he hadn't thought to take a single sip of coffee or turn his music back on while engaging with her. "It reminds me of my own daughter when she was discovering things in school." He snapped his fingers together in realization. "Ninja Scroll--name ring any bells?"

"Yeah, what of it? Oh, you mean the first anime film you saw?"

Roland nodded. "Yes, I watched it with my daughter, at her request."

"You watched Ninja Scroll with your daughter?" Letty was incredulous. "That must have been, like, top 10 most uncomfortable parenting moments ever."

He chuckled, nodding along. "I was not a fan, no. I'll admit, the artistry at work, I would put it above reproach--only, the subject matter, at times it was..."

"In poor taste?" Letty offered.

Roland nodded again, slowly. He seemed disheartened. "I never understood why she wanted to watch that film with me, of all things. It seemed so...mean-spirited and vile. Part of me couldn't help but infer some manner of personal commentary between the two of us--learning and enriching her own life with all kinds of exciting new things." He pointed a finger in the air for emphasis. "And that was what she chose to bring home to share with me."

Letty studied Roland's face. "You think she was trying to shock you, the way teenager's love to do with their parents?"

Roland crossed his arms as he reminisced. "I'd like to think I did right in raising her, especially when it came to things like entertainment. Nothing too violent, too crass, age appropriate...her interests, though, they always flowed over the boundaries of what would be considered 'wholesome'--and not just by my own standards," Roland clarified, "But overall, very counterculture, very fringe. The things she'd occupy herself with as she aged, she would have known I didn't approve of them."

He hesitated before continuing, seeming to chew over the words he wanted to say next, but thought better of it. "We've got a lot of work ahead of us tonight, I don't suppose you'd mind terribly if we changed the subject to lighter fare?"

"Oh, yeah, of course," Letty apologized, "I didn't mean to jam you up dude, let's get to it. Sorry, seemed like there was a story there, I had to get snoopy--"

Roland held up a dismissive hand to halt her mealy-mouthing. "Entirely my fault, I have a policy about keeping conversation with my clients as light as my hands. Helps the night along, gets you where you're going quicker."

Letty thought this over a moment, watching Roland set up for the surgical portion of the embalming. "You don't have to be...SO quick to get us where we're going."

Roland sighed, his shoulders weighing heavily. "Afraid I do. I'm not doing any favors prolonging the inevitable, least of all by dragging down everyone who passes through here with my tales of regret. I should prefer to consider time spent here at Palimpsest a refreshment on your way down the road: a sort of pit stop, if you will, before you come home to truly rest."

"Maybe some of us, though," Letty offered, playing coy, "Maybe we like to learn a little about the driver at this pit stop?"

"I said no."

Roland didn't shout this, but he didn't necessarily say it with kindness, either--a hair over the line, he forgot his manners in silencing Letty, and the regret was instant and palpable as he stopped what he was doing. Eyes closing for a moment, he exhaled, raising a hand to press his fingertips softly against his forehead.

"That was unprofessional of me. I know you were only being friendly."

Letty was definitely taken aback, but maybe not as upset as Roland thought. "Seemed like the shoe fits, you needing a friend and all."

Roland's stony demeanor cracked somewhat, a hint of a smile in his cheeks. "'I need a friend,' do I?"

"Bro, you're talking anime with a literal dead body," Letty immediately scolded endearingly. "Forget the floor, the bar is six feet under at this point."

This pulled another chuckle from him, prompting Roland to hold up his coffee mug. "I suppose I could swap this for a glass of wine and conversation with the living every now and again, yes."

"Depends," Letty countered, "Is that a pumpkin spice latte?"

"Absolutely not," Roland croaked, horrified. "I have a little more self respect than that, thank you very much."

"Self-respect enough to not enjoy something that is tasty? And delicious? And--" Roland was shielding himself with his waving arms as Letty rattled off adjectives, "--Wholesome? And warming? And just all-around life-giving goodness?"

"I like it black," he shrugged.

"No wonder you got no friends," Letty admonished, "Who are you trying to impress, taking your coffee BLACK? Do you just hate flavor?"

"I hate consumer trends," Roland corrected.

"Oh my God, I'm being embalmed by a friendless old hipster," Letty groaned. "You ever stop to think the reason it's a trend is because it's actually really good and appeals to people who actually have good taste? Have you ever had pumpkin spice coffee?"

"I turned down a cup just this evening," Roland boasted with a self-congratulatory sip.

"Okay, last rites," Letty barked, "You said I get to make requests? I request--no, I demand you have at least one cup of pumpkin spice tonight while I'm here, and if I'm in the ground before that happens I'm coming back to haunt your ass, I swear."

"Out of the question," Roland dismissed, and they both shared a healthy laugh.

When it subsided, Letty asked gently: "You think maybe she thought you were lonely too?"

Roland was lost for a moment. "Who?"

"Your daughter. You think maybe the reason she was showing you that stuff that made you uncomfortable, watching Ninja Scroll with you--maybe she wanted to share with you things that helped broaden her own horizons? See if she couldn't eke out your more adventurous side again, so you could, you know--get back out into the world, make some new experiences? New friends, even?"

Roland fell silent, turning away from Letty, his gloved thumb running apprehensively along the rim of his coffee mug. A long pause grew into a gulf between them, sustained by the buzz of the overhead lights.

"The draining process will be the most uncomfortable part of all of this," Roland finally said, the mask of focused work ethic fully back in place. "I'll suggest you sleep through it, and I'll let you know when I'm moving on to the next stage."

Letty couldn't show she was crestfallen--she was simply static as ever, only her voice gaining a bit more of a monotone to it as she acknowledged him. "Yeah, sure thing, just wake me up when its done."

The good humor had dissipated quickly between them, and for all his excuses of wanting to keep things professional, Roland knew he was to blame. He cast a final look over Letty's face--she was already absent herself, the eyes cold and unseeing.

She wouldn't notice how much time had passed if he returned her to her refrigerator drawer for later. Roland pushed the embalming tray away from himself with distaste, looking towards the wall of drawers to decide who else he could work on in the meantime. For now, there was a depth being plumbed within him by this young deceased woman he didn't feel comfortable exploring fully, and he needed a break.

His coffee was still warm enough to cast up wisps of faint steam, but he dumped it all down the drain reserved for bodily fluids anyway.

Time for a refill.