he arrived at 8:30. death had already been proclaimed at 8:20, by his older brother. still, as a matter of practice, or perhaps an offshoot of some morbid curiosity, he placed his fingers lightly upon the wrist of the deceased, to discern the radial pulse. a surprise, first of all, to feel the warmth of the body; how it was dead, and yet, it still held that most distinctive mantle of the living, heat. a surprise, next, to feel, with deep pressure, a pulse: no, it was not distinct enough to be considered a "living pulse," nor did it have the consistency of a heart behind it; but it was palpable nonetheless, a ripple-echo, like something left over and unsettled, long after the stone that was cast had sunk to the bottom of the sea...

he closed his eyes, nodded to his brother. with a strange giddiness, he agreed: his grandfather was dead.