I peek around the window frame and come face to face with a man in a cryovac suit. I’m sure he’s seen me, but the grime on the window is too thick and he’s too busy prying the woman away from her chair. He’s gripping her under the arms and dragging her backwards, like she’s a sack of plasti-crete. He finally manages to dislodge her from the chair and her body tilts toward the ground. The food falls from her chin and rolls from view. The other man fishes her feet from under the table and they carry her like a half cooked noodle to a body bag on the floor. They wrangle her distended limbs inside and seal it closed. The black bag looks out of place in the grey toned apartment. Obscene. It’s too shiny, like an insect bursting from its cocoon.