fiction

If you asked me

If you asked me, I would say the best thing about it is being able to see the stars again. But you can’t ask me. You’re dead. Everybody is dead, but it’s you I miss most.

Another thing I like is how quiet it is now. Although it can get to me at times. Sometimes I shout, or talk to myself. I used to sing but I’ve been forgetting things and I prefer not to be reminded about the gaps. I can’t remember what your face looked like. Somehow that hurts more than everything else we’ve lost.

I was at some work function a few years ago, and I didn’t know anyone. I’ve always been rubbish at starting conversations, so I was just listening to the jazz lounge music and staring out the window. One of the few people I know came up to me, saw me staring at this tall, glittering tower, said to me deadpan: “Thinking of buying it?”