‘The Hands of the Dead’- By NM Cunningham
The fluorescent light of the corridor flickers and the unmistakable scent of formaldehyde fills the void. I blink blue, the synaesthesia response I know well. The floor, old speckled linoleum, has streaks of black and tracks of wheels where gurneys transport the deceased from the mortuary to the lab. There’s a buzz of noise from … Continue reading “‘The Hands of the Dead’- By NM Cunningham”
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