The mountain forest cabin had been unused for at least three months when we arrived on a chilly and rainy night. The cabin was cold, but we soon had a blazing flame hissing in the main room’s oil heater.
As the cabin warmed up, I toured the rooms to make sure all was shipshape. Imagine my surprise when I saw the desiccated corpse laying in the bathtub.
It had no clothes on even though the bath was dry. Even without clothes its gender was impossible to determine as the cold, dry mountain air had shrunk the corpse to a much smaller version of what it had been as a living being.
I could see nails and hair — gray hair — was it (it because remember, no gender is known) an elder or was gray its natural color.
Swallowing my own revulsion at this gruesome site I swaddled my own hands in tissue before I lifted the corpse from the bath.
Holding it in my hands I looked at it again. Was it male? Was it female? I couldn’t tell and honestly, I no longer cared.
Was it a mole? Was it a field mouse? I didn’t care. I just wanted it out of the bath and done away with, which I hastily did. Farewell little mole or field mouse. Rest in peace along with your brother or sister that I found the last time we visited our friends’ cabin.
