“Now I can see,” the nurse said softly. “He’s dead, but that really isn’t him, is it?” The nurse regarded Bill’s motionless form, not morbidly but with a genuine fascination, as if she just then were reaching some conclusion about life, about death. “Oh, I know that’s him,” she said, a little flustered. “But that’s not him,” she said. “He’s not really dead.”
