The Body

Alice woke to her alarm, buzzing along with a cheerfulness quite unbecoming to such a monotonous fellow. Alice smiled at the alarm, but he only growled and buzzed. She turned and smiled at the world, and it smiled back. With a quick morning ritual of shower and breakfast, she skipped into the library with an air of satisfaction; her paper was coming along wonderfully, and she anticipated another good day’s worth of writing.

She stepped into the Lincoln Room, the lights dim and warm against the deep, smooth, blood-red luxury of the leather armchairs. The room was empty, as usual this time of day, except for some scattered remains of study: books stacked together, papers lying unheeded across the table and floor, a pen or two flung carelessly across the room at the ghosts of other more diligent and less-distracted studiers. Where to sit today? Alice glanced across the room at the high-backed armchairs gathered together in a semi-circle around the fireplace. Cozy, warm, never disturbed. She stepped lightly toward the inviting fire, but when she had entered in between the great chairs, into the ring surrounding the fireplace, she could see that someone else was already there – lying in front of her, on his stomach before the great enchanting fire, reading, perhaps? No; Alice giggled to herself: napping. A perfect place to nap! Cozy, warm, never disturbed. Well, she could sit in the chair on the other side of the fire, so as not to disturb the sleeper. She tiptoed gently around the body, her soft shoes making no sound as they sunk into the depths of the plush carpet. She jerked her foot back; had she kicked him? His leg had moved, heavily, drowsily, painfully. Perhaps she had nudged him with her toe. Sorry, she mouthed to the motionless back and legs; it seemed he had gone back to sleep.

Alice sunk into the armchair, dropping her bag of books next to her. Ooops! Sorry … but he didn’t seem to have heard. She winced for him as she unzipped her bag, one – zip – at – a – time … but he didn’t hear that, either.

Suddenly, a high-pitched burst of static jingling came buzzing out of nowhere. Alice jumped; her skin tingled. The sleeper’s phone was dancing a frenzied dance inside his jacket pocket, buzzing fit to burst her eardrums. Why didn’t he hear it? No one slept that heavily ...

Alice bent over the sleeping student to wake him, see if he would wake up, why wouldn’t he wake up, why wouldn’t he answer his phone, why couldn’t he hear the angry buzzing of the metallic machine? Alice put a hand to his shoulder, to see if …

No. Alice knelt in the great red depths of the Persian rug, and stared at the lifeless body.

No. Alice knelt in the great red depths of the Persian rug, and tried to make herself touch the clammy hand.

No. Alice knelt in the great red depths of the Persian rug, and with great reluctance, admitted to herself the truth.