“And I can't stop thinking about Pighead. I wish I could talk to him and he'd talk back. Use some sort of spirit-world sign language. Make the lights flicker, or if that's too hard, he could cause a draft in my apartment. Or maybe it's easier to come back in a dream. Maybe he could visit me there. The only problem with that is that I'd always think it was just a dream. So maybe he needs to learn how to turn street lamps off when I walk beneath them. If that's too tricky, maybe he could just make them blink.

I keep talking to him but I don't hear anything. Maybe it's too soon. Maybe there's a holding area or something. A process. Like going through customs with a dog. How it has to stay in quarantine for a few weeks before you can take it home. Maybe it's like that. Or maybe you just die and that's it. Maybe there is nothing else. Maybe your body heat simply evaporates and adds another billionth of a degree of heat to the world.”