Nobody expected her to come.
Orange jumpsuit.
Prison shoes.
Hands trembling.
Two guards standing near the back.
People whispered.
Some recognized her.
Most judged her.
Because everyone knew who she was.
The dead woman’s sister.
They hadn’t spoken in years.
When she entered—
nobody moved.
She walked straight to the coffin.
Then suddenly—
placed both hands on the lid.
“What are you doing?”
someone asked.
She didn’t answer.
Instead—
she closed her eyes.
Pressed her ear against the white wood.
And whispered—
“No…”
The room became uncomfortable.
Someone stepped forward.
“Please step away.”
She raised one finger.
“Wait.”
Silence.
Then—
she whispered:
“Listen.”
Nothing.
Five seconds.
Ten.
Then—
soft.
Very soft.
Knock.
Knock.
The room froze.
Another knock.
The funeral director turned pale.
People stepped back.
Someone laughed nervously.
Someone else said—
“It’s impossible.”
But the woman in orange suddenly turned.
Her face completely changed.
“She’s alive.”
Chaos.
Phones.
Shouting.
The coffin opened.
Inside—
the woman slowly opened her eyes.
Weak.
Confused.
Alive.
Nobody understood.
Doctors arrived.
