"Hey man," I said as I opened the door to let Pip in.
"What's up?" He plopped himself down on her couch and rested his hands on top of his head, elbows cocked outwards.
"Not much, just came back from your funeral." I sat in the recliner facing the couch and put my feet on the coffee table.
"Yeah? How'd that go?"
"It sucked. You would have hated it. Some preacher kept going on about how you were right with god before you died and about how you'd be there waiting for us when it was our time."
"Probably the preacher from my parents' church. You didn't stand up and call bullshit?"
"No, your mom and girlfriend seemed to be eating it up and they technically outrank me."
"That's not true." Pip picked up an empty beer bottle from the coffee table and rolls it between the palms of his hands. I watch him and try not to think about how I'll never feel those hands running down my bare back again.
"So what are you going to do now that you're officially dead? I mean, isn't there some sort of light you should be moving towards?"
"Not so far. Maybe there is no light. Maybe they won't let me up. Maybe I'm stuck here. Who the hell knows?"
"As long as you're stuck here, you might as well stop by and see me sometime."
He stops spinning the bottle and looks up at me.
The bottle that he had been holding a moment ago falls to the coffee table and shatters.