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My father’s body lay there on the slab. They’d put him in a black body bag that was unzipped halfway down his chest.
It was strange to see him like that. I hadn’t seen him in a bathing suit since I was a kid, so seeing him now, half-naked and exposed, was very strange.
Almost as strange as seeing him dead.
His skin was pale and white with a light blue tint to it. His eyes were closed, like he was sleeping.
Curiously, I didn’t feel anything. That body on the slab wasn’t my father. My father was alive; my father was an oil baron, a titan of industry, a king among billionaires.
This thing that lay in front of me… it was just a husk. Just an empty shell. It was the mask without the soul behind it.
My father was gone.
The doctor was saying something. “…likely heart attack… blood screening… report in a few days…”
“Okay,” I said, hoping it would shut him up. I didn’t want to hear anymore.
The doctor peered at me closely, like he was looking for some sort of sign. Like he was worried. “Do you want me to bring in your fiancée, or one of the other gentlemen who came in with you?” he asked.
“No,” I said, and turned away from the body on the slab. “No, I’m done here. We can go.”
