July 9th 2015

It was 8:15 in the morning. The sky was a pale shade of blue that occurs only before a shower. The smell of wet earth that accompanies rain was in the air but on this day the clouds seemed reluctant to shed their weight anytime soon. So the weather stayed just perfect. I started down a cobbled stone path descending towards the perfectly white building at the end. The path was blanketed with moss and dew which seemed too beautiful and slick to be safe. In the end the moss gave way to mud which seemed an odd little thing in front of the perfectly white building. Inside were what seemed like endless shelves of reinforced steel doors 3 feet by 3 feet in size. The steel cold doors seemed to guard their secrets intently as we walked down the aisle to drawer number 16, which housed the body of the person I used to call ‘mother’.