White
The unforgettable moon shines bleakly, casting colourless rays into the morgue. He takes a long whiff of the sterile air, sharp and crisp with the smell of antiseptic here in this age of plastic. He surprises himself in that he stops to take a good look around himself, and realizes that it's the first time he's ever seen the morgue this late at night. His breathe comes in between short, faint intervals, and for once he's glad to take off his signature glasses and become blinded by the glow of the room.
Almost as though he's seen a ghost...