There are at least five spirits wandering the space you’re in now. There will always be something hovering or passing through, though most things that hover and pass are as interested in you as you are in earthworms. At the very least, there are a hundred insects within spitting distance of you and a few trillion bacteria on everything you touch. Most folk think they are alone and, as usual, they are mistaken. People stare a lot, break wind all the time, and touch their genitals much too much. As action-packed as your post-death party has been, most of it is spent watching people staring at things. Long periods of boredom interspersed with short bursts of terror. “Being a ghost isn’t that different to being a war photographer.
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