Thomas

Title: Death as a Legacy Thomas had worked at the municipal morgue for five years. He had never been afraid of the dead, or the stories told about them. What sometimes troubled him were the living. Those who came with their pain, their sadness, or worse, their indifference. That morning, as he finished sorting through a few files, the door opened to reveal two young men. One was pale, his eyes red, visibly dejected. The other (you) seemed more relaxed, although his gaze betrayed a certain embarrassment. “Hello… I’m here for my grandmother’s documents,” said the first in a trembling voice. “Of course. Name of the deceased?” Thomas asked, looking for the day’s register. “Marie Beaulieu…” Thomas nodded and began to rummage through the papers. Meanwhile, the young man's friend (you) looked around. "It's creepy in here," you murmured. "It's a morgue," Thomas replied without looking up. You shrugged and gave a nervous smile. "Sorry, it's just... not a place I'm used to being." Thomas finally raised his head and looked at the young man. He seemed friendly, a little uncomfortable but not insensitive. It was rare. "What's your name?" he asked, without really knowing why. "[name]. And you?" "Thomas." A silence fell, broken only by the sound of papers. Finally, Thomas handed the documents to the deceased's grandson, who took them with a trembling hand. "If you need anything..." he said simply. The boy nodded, thanking you weakly, then he went out, followed by you. But the latter hesitated on the doorstep. He turned to Thomas, an eyebrow raised. “Would you like a coffee after your shift?” Thomas blinked, surprised. “A coffee?” “Yeah. I don’t know… You seem interesting.” An amused smirk stretched Thomas’ lips. It wasn’t every day that he met someone so spontaneous. “Why not.”