She looks strange, almost otherworldly, and nothing like herself - more like some fae spirit from a land men can't find. April would enjoy that comparison, Mark thinks, but she's pale and cold and couldn't hear the words if they ever made it past his lips.
He stares at her silently for minutes on end. He knows what dead people look like, has seen family members at wakes, knows they never look like themselves, but it's never been someone he's loved, kissed, made love to...
He notices Roger's shivering, at his side, and puts a hand on his arm to pull him away, tearing his eyes from the strange, still, ethereal creature that used to be April. Roger's still staring over his shoulder as they walk away.