One time you gave me a tour of your apartment except you’d already died and it wasn’t your ghost because I’m not like that but, there we were. It was partly weird because I’d already been there before when you threw parties, you knew my friends and I’d come with them and kind of just hang out, say hi and bye and thanks. That’s what else made it partly weird, we didn’t really know each other before you died, so, you showed me each room and I pretended I’d never seen it before. I think you completely forgot we’d met. You were like, “Uh. This is the bathroom.” “Wow,” I said. “Yeah,” you said. “And uh, this is the kitchen.” “Ah, nice,” I said. When you came to me after the car accident outside your building and said, “Hey you’ve died and you’ll be going to heaven soon but before you do you get to say goodbye to this Earth and cherish your last moments among the worldly,” I was like, “Sick.” But after a while I realized I wouldn’t fly over green hills and blue lakes and white clouds, I’d just get a tour of your apartment, which I’d already been in and only seen a few times before.
Michael Mungiello was born in New Jersey. He lives in what is essentially Brooklyn but technically Queens. His work is in Hobart, Fourteen Hills, and OF ZOOS.
Also by Michael: Basking, Gloating
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