The coffin was heavy but not unmanageable. I tried to catch Cayla’s eye and act like this was no big deal, that I could do it one-handed if I wanted to. She puffed out her cheeks, blowing out a spout of air, in what I assumed was a this-is-hard-work gesture. I nodded and shrugged. Well, I couldn’t shrug, as my shoulders were bearing a considerable load.

“At the far end, or the foot-end, is the fishtail, the ogee, corner, and tip—”

It was more than a little bizarre to think that I’d got up this morning, showered, eaten a bowl of Honeycomb cereal, put on my “best” clothes, and now I helped carry an ornate box containing a body, or a person, or an unperson. I thought about Eddie’s question regarding her possible movement inside the coffin and I listened and felt for little thuds or thumps, a light but longing tapping. I tried not to think about her opening her eyes again. More than halfway down the stairs and the silver-colored handle was getting slick, but I couldn’t let go and wipe my hands. As though in panic response, my temperature spiked and every inch of clothing on my body dampened. My chest was heavy and tight.

“Those plates where the handles are attached are lugs or ears, and the handle itself held in place by the arms. Odd, or perhaps fitting, the exterior has so much body nomenclature.”

We made it off the stairs and walked through the front door, but the cargo mass had somehow increased. Maybe my leverage position in the middle had meant the people in front and back shouldered most of the lifting burden while going down the stairs, but now that the weight was evenly distributed my arms and legs quivered and I was not getting enough air.

Cayla asked, “Are you okay?”

I didn’t look at her or at anyone else. “I’m fine.”

I was not fine. My vision blurred and uninterpretable inkblots encroached at the edges. My head filled with damp peat and moss, and my ears rang as I sank into the bog of myself. Was I going to faint? I tried to blink everything away and I took deep, noisy breaths as my feet shuffled through the swampy blacktop to the hearse, finally the hearse.

The two men loaded their end in the back and onto rollers, and the coffin glided into place, its length receding into the interior darkness of the shrouded vehicle.

No longer clutching the coffin handle, I backed away and was instantly revivified. My vision cleared and chest wasn’t heavy anymore. I clapped my hands once and giggled, relieved that I was not going to pass out, or die. At least, not in that moment.

Everyone else stared at me. I said, “Piece of cake, right? What?”

One of men in black suits said, “You look blue,” and the other added, “More greenish. Like he’s seasick.”