Dead People Don't Look Amused
By: Alissa Kiedrowski “It’s too late.” The doctor looked sadly at the man lying on the bed in front of him. “Time of death, 3:16 p.m.” He raised his hand to dismiss the team who had been working madly to try to save the man’s life. The doctor paused over the man for a moment, the same way he had paused with all the others over the years. His medical team knew this was his way. They never questioned his reasons; they never asked why. They silently exited the room as he called time of death. Some thought he wanted a moment alone to say a quick prayer for the soul of the deceased or for their family. Some thought his motives were more selfish, a few stolen moments of silence to appease his bruised ego, to attempt to show good sportsmanship over his loss in the contest against death. Even though death always won in the end, the doctor was arrogant enough to think he deserved to win most of the time. But his actual purpose was even more bizarre. He kept a journal of each patient he lost
