and the antiseptic clink and clatter of sharp instruments , and the man in the white coat with its copper-colored stains leaning over the metal necropsy table , and the boy 's numb fingers wet with effluvia , and the tears of protest that run down his cheeks and the hunger in his belly and the light-headedness of finding himself in this place where no pies cool on racks and no woman sings over a warm fire , just the man and his gore-encrusted nails and the peculiar crunch of the shears snapping through cartilage and bone and the strangely hypnotic beauty of a corpse flayed wide , its organs like exotic creatures of the lightless deep , the surreal humming of the man as he works , fingers digging deep , black eyes burning , forearms bulging , the taut muscles of his neck and the clenched jaw , and the eyes , the eyes burning .