Dating the Dead • lrh

1. 'death'

They say that death is just part of the process of life. We all die at a certain point in our lives. When that would happen is a total mystery.

Others say that we don't die completely. Our souls merely leave our mortal shell we call bodies and move into another plane of existence. Where that place is, a total mystery as well.

I say that if we completely maximized our time alive, it doesn't matter when we'll go or where we'll end up in. The only mystery to that is how.

Mr Lasetter, my Creative Writing professor, set my paper on his table. His green eyes looked at me through his spectacles. "Mr Hemmings," he ran a hand through his graying hair. He must be in his late 50s. "You have a good concept right here but I believe you can expound your thought."

"Mr Lasetter, I would love to expound but I'd rather maximize my last day of school outside than to write another paragraph," I gave him a reassuring smile to let him know that I'm fine with whatever grade I'm getting for that paper.

He sighed deeply and flicked his hand at me. "Oh well, you may go now, Mr Hemmings."

I saluted him and bowed in front of the class. Nobody saw me do it because their noses are still stuck in their papers.

Before I finally feel my freedom, Mr Lasetter called out for me for the last time, "Have a great summer, Luke."

"You too Mr Lasetter," I smiled at him then left.

This is going to be a great summer.

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