lack of warmth in funerals

We've sat together since the first day of class. Partners. Strangers. Completely separate lives until a week ago. Now we share 600 minutes of every week sitting next to each other. Solving problems. Numerical, logical, distant problems. Both completely ignorant to the life problems unconsciously controlling the other's individual mind.

Every human has a temperature of 98.6 degrees Fahrenheit in their normal state. So why is it so surprising when I feel just the slightest warmth of another person? Knuckles touching knuckles. Strangers seem more or less like objects around me, and I expect objects to be cooler to the touch. Now I'm reminded of the cold touch of a living object after the fact. Beyond cold. A state. A cold and very strange state. Almost irrational. And I can feel this strangeness without touching the dead. Open caskets suffocate my heart. The expression of lost life dries my mouth. I hate funerals. Who likes them? I have a really hard time with them. The shortness of breath and watery eyes. Pain creeping around the room, weaving in and out through the mourners. A smog of sympathy, loss, and heartbreak looms over the black attired crowd. The air's as stale as the body.