Harry actually put this up on the fridge

Body

It was a hot and humid day, when Mark woke up in a strange way. He did not slip out of sleep, regaining consciousness before even properly opening his eyes (as he usually does, as you probably and I most certainly do, usually); neither did he wake abruptly like you do from a nightmare. No, it seemed like he opened his eyes before he was actually awake. I can't really compare because I'm not a sleepwalker and neither is Mark (nor Harry, nor John by the way), but: it wasn't like sleepwalking. And not only because he wasn't walking.

Anyway, when Mark woke up he found his eyes already open; sweat was slowly running from his receding hairline down his forehead. It might have been sweat burning in his eyes that woke him. It wasn't the noise coming from the street, because, strangely enough, he couldn't hear it until some two or three seconds after waking up with his eyes open.
He spent these deaf two seconds wondering why or how sweat could go down his face until he realized that he'd been sleeping in a sitting position his back almost upright, leaning against the headpiece of his bed. Now he could hear the noise coming up from street: cars jerking down -------- Ave, like any other morning.
Mark's lower back was in a state in between numbness and slight but persistent pain. Even worse was his right arm. He couldn't feel it and for some reason he thought he'd misplaced it, lost it somewhere on his way to bed, earlier this morning. He probably hadn't slept much longer than three hours. Still, long enough to have no memories of the night before. While his left arm was fine, a glance down revealed that his watch was not. The glass was broken and the hands had stopped. (At 5.34.) He wanted to take it off and examine it more closely, but he couldn't. He couldn't move his right hand. Second attempt. No. His right hand did not move. Anxious to find it gone he turned his head.

No, looking back we might say that only then Mark was really awake. In the shade of the drawn curtains, that hid the half-open window, he saw that his hand and half of his arm were stuck underneath something. It was a body.* BAM! He was awake.
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*This explanation would've fucked up the tension and the proper ending -- that's why it's here:
It was not a person. Not anymore. It was a dead body. A corpse. Yes, indeed. "Fuck." That was exactly what Mark thought.