Dear Mr L. Anderson,
We are writing to inform you that, after careful review, the Board has decided that we are unable to accept the donation of your skin to our collection. Although we have many of X's works in our collection, and we see her work as very important to contemporary Australian art history, we do not have the scientific or display requirements in which to preserve and honour your skin.
We feel there is no need for any further applications on your behalf via your lawyer. On a number of occasions, we have investigated options on how we could realise the success of such a donation, but there are legal and ethical barriers that prevent such an acceptance.
Three different gallery directors, under three different boards, have now reviewed your various applications, and all have felt that we are unable to accept your donation. We would like to make a friendly suggestion that perhaps it is time for you to start considering other options for your body after your passing.
Yours reluctantly,
Dr M. Howsen
Chairman of the National Gallery of Australia Board
Leonard held the piece of paper close to his face. If he was not mistaken, it smelled like tattoo ink. He pressed his thumb into the paper and sure enough the ink was still wet, leaving a black mark on his thumb.
The cunts, he thought to himself, they've had my final rejection tattooed. X probably did it herself.
He went into the bathroom, put the plug in the sink and filled it with water. He floated the sheet of paper in the sink, watching as the black ink bled into the water until there was no text left on the page at all.