Cigarette?

Wasted time well spent

Tommy. How is he here?? It can't be...

"W-wilbur?" He stampers and then let's loose a string of curses as I attempt pull him into an awkward hug. Why him? Why not ANYONE else.

"Hey..." I say softly

"I missee you. *hic* so much!" He cries unto my sleeve and I awkwardly pat his head. This isn't really a hug, us it? I'm just a human tissue. Or corpse tissue?

".... wanna play solitaire?" I ask. And we do. I win of course. But around our 40th game or so,he started showing improvement. And around 150 he actually beat me! Who knows how long that took us. Not that it matters, we have eternity.

We talk, and play charades and solitaire for days and days. I explain my new systems to him and although some seem to make him uneasy, I think it's quite possible he accepted some. I'm sure it'll just take perspective for the rest.

Life here will give you plenty of perspective. Best I can do is keep him from going mad. I should know of all people how poorly that can go.

The time passes slowly as always but having a friend makes it so much easier. We play a LOT of solitaire. I am forced to watch him as he inevitably slips into depression and do my best to be there for him. Not that it does much. But occasionally I can catch a glimpse of him, deep down.

I will never forget the moment he snapped. We had just started another game when he let's out a harsh and shaky breath. His eyes look hollow, abd I can see he has a small patch of white hair, just like me. It seems so prominent now. He breaks down, as he has before. But the lack of water has set in and he can't produce tears nor can he even get a runny nose. He can't make his body reflect how he feels. And I can physically see him break inside.

"Shh shh its ok." I pull him in and give him a hug. This is the first real hug I've has since I died in my father's embrace. I don't want it to end.

We both cling to eachother as if this is the end. If only it were. But there is no end and no escape. So we both wish this were it before finally he pulls away and turns away.

"Wil?" He asks finally. It's still weird to hear my name.

"Yeah tommy?" I reply. He turns back to face me.

"Why. Why are we here?" His voice cracks miserably. I can't answer him. I've wondered myself, honestly. Could ut be because we can go back one day? Is it a punishment? A reflection of our life, so that some may have a pleasant afterlife? If that's true, I surely ruined Phil's. This place seems to be worse for those who have committed more sins. Personal hell as I have always assumed. But mexican dream seems to like his. And there's some that seem nice. The flower feild, the sailing ship, thr island, the calm forest. Maybe it's only just that some have deaths like this after the lives they lived.

It's too much to try to grasp so I suggest we play cards instead. And we do. I'm winning 15689 to 3609 when something happens.

Tommy seems to fade a bit and begins to panic.

"Wil? Wilbur! Where are you? " He cries as if he can't see me. I try to grab his shoulder but my hand passes right through him. What??? I start panicking too. Is the full moon over? I have never seen this.

Then things get even stranger. The ground begins to shake and a bright white light Rios through the dense darkness and I sheild my eyes from it as a train pulls into station.

No. No! Not again! Another person is leaving me?????? Or is someone coming? Something tells me otherwise.

The entire station shakes and debris falls. My hair is coated in dust as I look through the steam. Tommy is wandering towards the train. How is he so close? I run after him.

Please, take me with you. Don't keave me alone again. I'm sorry! Just please.....

I seem to not make an progress as I run. As if I'm on a treadmill or running through cobwebs. I watch with an outstretched hand as Tommy boards the train and fall to myknees as the train pulls away. No......

I'm launcher into a fit of rage and grief and I find myself punching walls, running inti the mist, and screaming into oblivion. I rip my coat from my shoulders and throw it on the ground, wishing I could cry. Wishing I could FEEL something. As my coat hits the ground, a tin pops out and open. Shlatts cigarettes.

Well why the hell not.

Beyond angry, I push one up, light it, and stick it in my mouth. Breathing in the smoke, I realize a few things. Being dead doesn't keep you from coughing. The agony as my lungs are coated in the toxic particles is like before. I also learn that I am not tied to shlatts limbo, because I feel the affects of it nearly immediately. And finally, I can feel. And it's not a good feeling. But it's something.

And so I take another breath. Afterall, why not. I'm not going anywhere.