"So you're dead. Have any future plans? No, of course you didn't. But now that you're here, how about getting a job? I heard the Easter Bunny is taking egg-painters on all shifts, if you want to give it a shot. Or maybe standing in for the Grim Reaper while the big guy's on vacation is more your style?"


Tabitha stared down at herself. Or what had recently been herself.

Now that it was over with and she actually got a good look at the body, she couldn't for the life of her remember why she had been so reluctant to part with it. There was nothing, well, nothing unusually striking about her features, anyway. When she was alive Tabitha had called herself plain, but now that she wasn't stuck in the body, it was very obviously ugly.

But perhaps the ugliness was a mere side-effect of the death itself?

Yes, that must be it.

That little smear of blood on the corpse's left cheek, the small cuts and scratches that bled freely from her exposed arms and legs and around her neck… they couldn't possibly make you look any more flattering, could they? And that sort of glazed, wooden look in the eyes that made them look like glass-- oh, it was horrible, to have to look at yourself in this sort of way!

Since there didn't seem to be any Saint Peter hiding in the bushes, Tabitha left. She walked across the dewy lawn in the park, the cold of the morning no longer a problem.

Death, as it turned out, wasn't all that different than life. Tabitha was standing at the bus stop at the corner of Central Park, wondering if she would have to pay the bus fair, when he walked up and stood next to her.

Being dead, it was a pretty good guess that he couldn't see her. All the same, it was an amazing experience, to look straight at your murderer and have him be unaware of you entirely.

The bus came up and Tabitha waited out of routine courtesy for her murderer to get on first and paused, barely a moment, at the front of the bus before remembering her metro card was still back with her body. Shoulders drooping, Tabitha made her way to the back of the bus. The driver probably wouldn't mind if she didn't pay this once.