Marionne stood with her arms crossed, brow furrowed, looking down at the body of a strange man lying face-down on the floor, blocking the walkway between the front door and the living room.
She knew this man had stopped breathing because both her parents had checked multiple times to make sure. But no one had touched or moved the lifeless body since four days ago.
She herself had stepped over his body several times, until she'd memorized every detail of his back and the clothing he wore.
This man had presumably snuck into her house to steal something or other, but due to the darkness, clumsiness, or who knows what, he'd fallen, his head slamming into the floor. Blood had seeped out—not pooling across the floor, just a small stain near one temple—but apparently enough to kill him.
Marionne stepped over his body once more to open the refrigerator near the front door. After grabbing some snacks and treats, she stepped back over his body to return to the living room as usual, where she saw her parents sitting together watching television.
While the drama was playing, she suddenly remembered something that seemed quite important, so she turned to ask her mother:
"Mom... there's a dead person in our house. Shouldn't we report it to the police?"
She couldn't remember what the law said about this—if someone dies in your house, how many hours or days do you have to report it? But it had already been four days. If they reported it now, would they be in trouble? Would there be complications? If the police asked why they were only reporting it now, what should she say?
Her mother seemed to have just thought of this issue as well, so she dragged her by the wrist to go look at the corpse together one more time.
When they reached the spot where the corpse lay, her mother told her to search for evidence or anything that might indicate who this man was.
Having only seen his back for the past four days, she slowly crouched down to search the pockets of his shorts one by one, but found nothing. This man had come in with nothing but the clothes on his back.
"What should we do, Mom? If we report it now, won't the police think we were trying to cover up evidence or something? What excuse can we give for not reporting it four days ago?"
Her mother looked flustered, not knowing what to say or do next. The two of them stood there, wracking their brains for a solution.
Just then, Marionne heard someone shouting from the gate in front of the house. The moment she walked to open the front door, the body of the young man who had been lying motionless for four days suddenly sprang up and ran past her at lightning speed.
She seemed to have run after him without realizing it. When she reached the gate, before she could open it, the strange young man who should have been a corpse jumped over the fence, then rushed to open the car door belonging to the neighbor who often parked in front of her house. He started the car and floored the accelerator, making the vehicle shoot forward immediately. Soon the car disappeared from sight—who knows if she'd ever see the man or the car again.
Marionne stood staring at the bizarre scene before her in a daze, thinking to herself:
'Hmm... so the problem of reporting too late and possibly becoming a suspect can be solved this easily. Just have the corpse come back to life and leave the house. Why didn't I think of that from the start? As for the problem of the neighbor constantly parking their annoying car in front of my door—looks like that's solved too.'
"You're Sophia, aren't you? We've spent years tracking you down. I wonder if you remember hitting someone with your car and fleeing the scene."
A man in a white long-sleeved shirt and black pants spoke while holding out what appeared to be some kind of official document in front of her. Behind him were two other men—one sitting in a wheelchair with his left leg in a white cast from toe to knee, the other pushing the wheelchair.
Hearing the name 'Sophia,' Marionne frowned and tried to remember when she'd changed her name from Sophia to Marionne. About ten years ago, maybe?
Then she looked down at the man in the wheelchair with the cast on his leg, thinking: 'If I really did hit this guy over ten years ago, what's with that cast? ...A fossil?'