Book Description
The worst thing about being dead is the cell reception. The second worst thing is the view. I'd gladly take the inside of a dusty coffin over watching my very-much-alive wife crumble into a thousand pieces or seek help from a creepy wanna-seer or be won over by a bowtied lunatic who's everything I'm not-uh-wasn't. When you lose your keys, they tell you to retrace your steps. But when you lose your life, retracing your steps will only drive you crazy. I've been retracing mine for a year. And it's not a pretty sight. The haunted shack next door gave me a more accurate glimpse of my future than any tacky medium can concoct and it's only a matter of time. Moving on may be in my ghostly fingers' reach, but I'm thinkin' real hard about two things. Can I lay my spirit to rest losing my wife after I've lost my life? And heaven, hell, oblivion: are they really any better than this?
