Another day of photographing dead bodies.

I move around to view her left hand through the lens.

Her nails are manicured, a plaster on her arm, a tailored suit jacket. She was cared for.

The camera shutter echos in the cold air.

I roll her slightly to the right to take a picture of her face. Jane Doe number 6. Eyes greyed, pale, a smidge of dirt across her face.

Maybe someone will recognise her.