Organized Noise

Three days before Halloween, and I was ill, just out of the hospital where I'd watched them carry a black-shrouded corpse past my door. 

You've got to keep an eye on that line between life and death, you know, it can be thin and wily and move faster than you'd bargained for.

The shapes in the security monitor are little more than organized noise, but the one in front is surely me, a violet shadow over my eyes, beyond a veil of a different sort.