I was sitting on a vinyl chair kicking the linoleum. They'd given me some time to sit with your body. To say my last goodbyes in this room neither of us had ever been, in a place that meant nothing. I couldn't bear to look at you laid out on that uncomfortable plastic stretcher, so instead I looked at my feet and waited for it to be over. You weren't here anyway. You were gone. They thought I'd need time with your shell, as if the hermit crab or the snail is the shell, as if you were nothing more than just another body.
When the helicopter landed, I saw your soul escaping. Whilst the paramedics pounded you, the windsock was flailing.