Dead Makeup

In the seventh year of my makeup application for dead people, I received an unknown female corpse. She had my hair hidden between her fingernails and a note with my name on it in her stomach. The police thought it was a prank. I was the only one who knew that my sister, who disappeared three years ago, had been buried in the same way before she died. Now, for the third time, the morgue lights went out for no apparent reason. In the darkness, I heard the sound of fingernails scraping metal from the refrigerator next door. Once, twice, three times.