By skyforbes 
I don’t know if it’s real. That’s the part that scares me
It might’ve been a skit. Maybe this random woman was rehearsing for her next audition, or, honest to god, she’s a service worker with a freakish tolerance for liquefied flesh. All I know is, I listened.
“Today I am a corpse cleaner,” she began. “Which is so gross. Not for me, for you, probably though, but not for me.”
At 14, in Las Tunas, Cuba, I saw my first cadavers inside a medical school anatomy lab. Some were laid out for teaching purposes, but most floated in a shared pool of formaldehyde, multiple bodies in the same chemical bath, because reusing the fluid was cheaper than replacing it. You can read that story here.
All I’ll say now is that when I heard her intro, I was already hooked. That’s all it took. My thumb froze mid-scroll, hovering above a split-second decision: keep doom scrooling or descend into whatever hell she was about to describe. If you know…