Grendel had never been happier in her life. “Its so beautiful!” she coo’d, holding up a bright, cashmere sweater. She hugged the cloth tight to her chest and spun around in circles as she danced with the twinkling Christmas lights. The warm smell of cinnamon and pine filled the air when her husband entered the room. “Oh, thank you Jon!”

“Jesus. How long has she been like this doc?” he kept one eye on the small window. Dr. Herschel took his eyes of the young intern and looked sadly at the dancing figure through the small square of glass.

“Years.” he replied. “Ever since her husband died.” In the dark, padded room Grendel spun. Her arms were wide as the hem of her tattered hospital skirt whipped the air. She stopped suddenly and skipped to the door.

“Isn’t it beautiful, Jon?” she asked, face pressed against the thick glass. “I do love it so much!” She pushed off the door and resumed spinning.

“Gosh, how’d he die doc?”
Dr. Hirschel moved away from the door. “She gutted him dry.”

Grendel kept spinning.