The nose was whistling like a tea kettle. The body was disintegrating. There was a lamp on the floor. It was designed for tables but it was on the floor. The ceiling light did not work. In the summer the room would get hot. In the winter the room would get cold. In the summer the ceiling fan would spin. It didn't help.

The questions ended. Their beginning had vanished. Evidence was scrubbed. There was a room. Maybe it had seen death. Perhaps it had seen death. Equivocation — the room had seen death. There was a denial of the haunting. There were prayers. Time passed. The answers remained unclear.

He wrote on paper for the first time in a long time. So that no one would see it. So that he could throw it away. Like a suicide note.