The university was so honored by his wife, that it honored her with a certificate she couldn’t quiet understand what merit she attained. Words written on the certificate were too alien and complex for her to comprehend. She didn’t know whether to smile or put a still face.
Her husband hadn’t signed for his body to be used for science. As a matter of fact, he hadn’t signed any document, regarding how he wished the government to treat his body.
As she watched him float in formalin, she remembered how he treated her like a doormat. His confession was always “Honey, it’s just an experiment of love”, whenever emotions crawled nearer his soul. His “experiment” had cost her a job, friends and self esteem.
No tears clouded her eyes, when he met the angel of death at a subway train station. He wasn’t hit by a train – a heart attack surprised him unexpectedly. She wondered whether his soul was so dark, that his heart couldn’t accommodate it. His heart had to vomit it out, in the pretext for a heart attack.
The experimental man he was, she decided to donate his body to science. She gave the university authority to use the body as they pleased.