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Coups de cœur Cultura
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Despite herself, and, in spite of lying still on the cold, hard marble slab and being dead and all, Shaykan's not too little body twitched. And twitched again. And then twitched yet again. And again.
The Mortician's hand, holding the big magnifying glass, froze. And, in painfully slow, slow motion, the magnifying glass reeled right away from Shaykan's view.
To follow the Mortician's huge, frantically darting hand. Which, immediately thereafter, quite clearly, contributed to the many, many sounds of a large, whirling and unmistakably tumbling body.
Going, going. Going away. Going away and down. Going down and right away from Shaykan's body.
The magnifying glass, to slip straight off the Mortician's hand. And, to momentarily flash, slice and dice clear through the clean, crisp air, and then, quite by accident, hit the far off wall.
A shatter, one with a precise, deafening sound, ensured. And then, the scatterings of a thousand minute pieces of glass, fell softly to the ground.
To be followed, ever so neatly, by the very Mortician's huge body. Also somehow, somehow landing directly on the same self-spot, only moments later.
That second the Mortician's huge head hit the floor? He died.....
