The air conditioning from the funeral home penetrated into the bones.
When Hong Zhoumo opened his eyes, he was lying on the cart in the morgue. The stainless steel countertop hurt his back, and the pale light overhead made him squint his eyes.
"What's going on?"
He pushed himself up, and the surroundings were eerily quiet. Three corpses covered with white cloth were placed side by side, and the disinfectant water in the air was mixed with some indescribable sweet smell.
Memories come flooding back - I stayed up all night writing code last night and was hit by a black van on my way home. The final image was of the dazzling headlights and the driver's expressionless face.
But he is still alive now.
