Miss Sade tightly grips the wadded, soiled bandana with palsied fingers. Miss Sade’s unfocused eyes moisten as the attendant incessantly banters while freshening the bed.
No one on staff remembers the rag’s appearance.
Upon first rounds, the washed, damp rag, lay folded on the bed tray. A ten dollar bill lay across it with “Kathy” scrawled in shaky script across Hamilton’s face.
Kathy wept seeing it, lacking explanation.
“Well, you must’a done somethin',” says the attendant preparing the corpse for removal.
“How’d she do it?”