someone is dressing up for death today， a change of skirt or tie

    eating a final feast of buttered sliced pan， tea

    scarcely having noticed the erection that was his last

    shaving his face to marble for the icy laying out

    spraying with deodorant her coarse armpit grass

    someone today is leaving home on business

    saluting， terminally， the neighbours who will join in the cortege

    someone is paring his nails for the last time， a precious moment

    someone‘s waist will not be marked with elastic in the future

    someone is putting out milkbottles for a day that will not come

    someone‘s fresh breath is about to be taken clean away

    someone is writing a cheque that will be rejected as ‘drawer deceased’

    someone is circling posthumous dates on a calendar

    someone is listening to an irrelevant weather forecast

    someone is making rash promises to friends

    someone‘s coffin is being sanded， laminated， shined

    who feels this morning quite as well as ever

    someone if asked would find nothing remarkable in today‘s date

    perfume and goodbyes her final will and testament

    someone today is seeing the world for the last time

    as innocently as he had seen it first