The Grief Counselor's Hug

Carolyn had been cremated, her ashes consigned to the urn he'd brought back with him from the mortuary. As for him he'd never developed so much as a sniffle, though he lived in dread. His morning took the form of focusing on himself to the exclusion of all else. He drank, tried to work up a smile when May made some comment or other that was calculated to cheer him. Eight-nothing did nothing, just lay there, reviewing his life with Carolyn in a series of neural film clips,. drained of color and coherence.