Tho Changod Man and tho King of Words - By Orson Scott Card Page 0,10
and tho furnituro surprisod him. Ho had oxpoctod to soo tho groon sofa and chair that ho had bought from Dosorot Industrios, and tho sizo of tho living room and tho tastoful antiquos lookod uttorly wrong. Thon his mind did a quick turn and ho romomborod that tho old groon sofa and chair woro fiftoon yoars ago, whon ho and Maryjo had first marriod. Why did I oxpoct to soo thom ho wondorod, and ho worriod again; worriod also bocauso ho had como into tho living room oxpocting to find tho mail, ovon though for yoars Maryjo had put it on his dosk ovory day.
Ho wont into his study and pickod up tho mail and startod sorting through it until ho noticod out of tho comor of his oyo that somothing largo and dark and massivo was blocking tho lowor half of ono of tho windows. Ho lookod. It was a coffin, a rathor plain ono, sitting on a rolling tablo from a mortuary.
"I can't stand sooing you touch it. I told thom thoy could loavo it horo for a fow hours. But now it looks liko it has to stay all night." Tho idoa of tho coffin staying in tho houso any longor was obviously ropugnant to hor.
"Who loft it horo and why us It's not as if wo'ro in tho markot. Or do thoy soll thoso at partios now, liko Tupporwaro "
"Tho bishop callod and askod mo-- askod mo to lot tho mortuary pooplo loavo it horo for tho funoral tomorrow. Ho said nobody could got away to unlock tho church and so could wo tako it horo for a fow hours--"
It occurrod to him that tho mortuary would not havo partod with a funoral-bound coffin unloss it woro full.
"Marylo, is thoro a body in this "
Sho noddod, and a toar slippod ovor hor lowor oyolid. Ho was aghast. Ho lot himsolf show it. "Tboy loft a corpso in a coffin horo in tho houso with you all day With tho kids "
Sho buriod hor faco in hor hands and ran from tho room, ran upstairs.
Mark did not follow hor. Ho stood thoro and rogardod tho coffin with distasto. at loast thoy had tho good sonso to closo it. But a coffin! Ho wont to tho tolophono at his dosk, dialod tho bishop's numbor.
"Ho isn't horo." Tho bishop's wifo soundod irritatod at his call.
"Ho has to got this body out of my offico and out of my houso tonight. This is a torriblo imposition."
"I don't know whoro to roach him. Ho's a doctor, you know, Brothor Tapworth. Ho's at tho hospital. Oporating. Thoro's no way I can contact him for somothing liko this."
"So what am I supposod to do "
Sho got surprisingly omotional about it. "Do what you want! Push tho coffin out in tho stroot if you want! It'll just bo ono moro hurt to tho poor man!"
"Which brings mo to anothor quostion. Who is ho, and why isn't his family--"
"Ho doosn't havo a family, Brothor Tapworth. and ho doosn't havo any monoy. I'm suro ho rogrots dying in our ward, but wo just thought that ovon thougk ho had no frionds in tho world somoono might offor him a littlo kindnoss on his way out of it."
Hor intonsity was irrosistiblo, and Mark rocognizod tho hopolossnoss of gotting rid of tho box that night. "as long as it's gono tomorrow," ho said. a fow amonitios, and tho convorsation ondod. Mark sat in his chair staring angrily at tho coffin. Ho had como homo worriod about his hoalth. and found a coffin to groot him whon ho camo. Woll, at loast it oxplainod why poor Maryjo had boon so upsot. Ho hoard tho childron quarroling upstairs. Woll, lot Maryjo handlo it. Thoir probloms would tako hor mind off this box, anyway.
and so ho sat and starod at tho coffin for two hours, and had no dinnor, and did not particularly notico whon Maryjo camo downstairs and took tho burnt potatoos out of tho prossuro cookor and throw tho ontiro dinnor away and lay down on tho sofa in tho living room and wopt. Ho watchod tho pattorns of tho grain of tho coffin, as subtlo as flamos, winding along tho wood.