hearing being one of the last senses you supposedly lose, i've begun a habit of talking to the fresh corpses at my job. when i discover someone dead in their bed during my shift, after the initial pulse check and charge nurse alerting, there is always some inevitable period of required cleanup time when i am stuck alone with the body. even on a cold stiff corpse, it's still admittedly a bit awkward. i only just recently noticed that i redirect the tension by talking to the person outloud throughout the process. who knows if they can hear? who fucking cares? i lower beds, are you comfortable? i fix hair, i moisturize skin, i change clothes, looking good. i carry on casual conversation while wiping up a small swamp of post mortem bowel voiding. i compliment waxy smoothed out wrinkles. i reminisce and tell stories. i thank people for being my friend if they were. this morning i was placing bets on which of my two death rattle fishtank breathers would expire first. it ended up being a normally bitchy old man, who asked my name for the first time and thanked me with uncharacteristic sweetness before removing his cannula sometime after i left the room. i found him around sunrise with his mouth hanging wide open and eyes half closed. the lids were no problem to shut, but the jaw would only budge a half inch before jamming and sagging back into place. i took the initiative and apologized for how fucking stupid he looked.