Woe, Oh, the Rot

You see there is a body in the closet!” Instead she just stared at me.

“No there isn't, why do you always lie?”

“Mom but you see it! It's right there! She's right there!”

The Body, or the dead lady lying in my closet, was a stranger. A stranger with glazed eyes, pale lips, pale skin, and all other traits which mark her as deceased. She might have been beautiful once, her eyes might have been blue, her lips might have been full, and her cheeks might have been round and rosy. But she's dead now and all her potential beauty potentially abandoned her.

“You constantly lie to me, how do I know this is not just some prank?”

“What?”

“How do I know this is not just one of your friends?”

“This is actually insane we have to call the cops”

“We are not calling the cops over stupid games”

“Why would you think I am lying to you? When have I ever lied to you!?”

“You lie all the time”

“When? Just give me an example”

“I don't have time for this” she walked away.

I stood there for an eternity more. The body in the closet and I. I would mourn her properly if I knew her name. Maybe she would believe me if I told her there was a dead body in our closet. Or maybe she would be just as unsympathetic if the eyes belonging to it were green instead of her own blue.