My shower is warm and invigorating, as usual (one of the few positive aspects of my apartment), but my head is going in too many directions for it do much in terms of calming me down. Even now, I feel this new strength pulsing through me, presumably a result of this new awareness; I treat every shampoo bottle and faucet with the utmost delicacy to avoid shattering them into a million pieces. After a few minutes of testing it, though, I think I’m starting to get the hang of it.

I didn’t hurt anyone coming in last night, did I? I can’t remember anything after I got out of the car.

As I’m drying off, I hear a knock at my bathroom door.

“Are you decent?”

“Not yet,” I say. “And if you come in, I’ll smack you three realms over.”

“Naturally,” he says. “Wouldn’t dream of it. Just had a question for you.”

“Ask it, then.”

“No, no,” he says. “Go ahead and finish getting dressed; I’m in no rush. I’m not the mortal around here, after all.”

“…I keep almost mistaking you for a gentleman, you know.”

“A common error. We’ll work on avoiding that in the future.”

Ugh, why am I flirting with him?

Oh, right, because he’s super-hot.

…And no, that wasn’t a demon pun.

I finish my post-shower ritual and open the door. When I do, Lee is once again seated on my dresser.

“You like it up there, don’t you?” I say.

“It gives me a feeling of power,” he says, looking me in the eyes.

“And it gives you a place to say cryptic crap like that.”

“Precisely,” he says.

“So, hey, question,” I say. “You said you had one. For me.”

“Yes,” he says. “If you had to pick one thing that drives you, what would it be?”

“…That’s your question?”

“It’s an important one,” he says. “From now on, you need to think with a long-term vision for everything. Your life expectancy has shifted from roughly another twenty thousand days to… Well, a lot more. Probably infinite. We’re not a hundred percent sure, to be honest.”

“Oh yeah, hey, have y’all figured out religion and stuff?” I ask. “Because that’d be nice to have settled.”

“Not really,” he says. “I mean, obviously, the ‘everyone goes straight to heaven or hell or whatever eternal destination when they die’ business is out, and so is the notion that physical reality is all there is. But anything else in between is still fair game. The notion of reincarnation in the traditional sense is a bit iffy, but it has some merit. We don’t know if there’s a higher power; we just know that we kept on going after we died because we figured out some stuff before we died. Or because somebody decided we were necessary.”

“So… What happens to everyone else?”

“They slip,” he says.

“Slip?”

“It’s what we call it when your soul enters a realm we haven’t explored,” he says. “We’ve never had anyone return from one of those realms. It’s… It could be anything. It could be eternal paradise or it could be eternal punishment. Or it could be eternal pie. Or eternal some other word that does or doesn’t start with a P.”

“So you just don’t know,” I say.

“Exactly.”

“Do you have any theories?”

“Well, it’s only speculation, but I think that when we enter a realm and can’t get back, it’s because there are already souls like us in them. None of the realms we’ve found have any form of life in them; they’re basically empty voids. So maybe if we try to intersect with other souls, the reaction is so intense that ours instantly dissolve.

“Again, only speculation,” he adds.

“And people have tried to go into them frequently? Or… souls have tried to go?”

“We use the terms interchangeably,” he says. “And yes, several have tried. They’ve tried tethering themselves in a familiar realm, or only sending a piece of themselves, or sending some sort of device that would automatically return after a certain period of time. Very, very rarely — I know of two instances, and both of those were the result of sheer luck — we’ll stumble upon a new realm that’s safe for our souls to travel to and from. Generally, though, they’re lost forever.”

“A piece of themselves?”

“OK, you’ve asked plenty of questions, and still haven’t answered mine,” he says. “One thing that drives you. You can change your answer in fifteen minutes if you want. Just give me a starting point.”

“Right now?” I say. “My stomach. I’m starving.”

“Fair enough,” he says. “We can solve that one. You know any good places to eat around here?”

“Oh, heck yes,” I say, perking up. “Mickey’s! I can go to Mickey’s any time I want, now that I’m jobless! And also a part of the immortal realm or something!”

“You’ll still have to pay,” he says.

“What.”

“We’ll get into that later. For now, lead on to Mickey’s.”

“Right,” I say, grabbing my purse. “You said you’re corporeal now, right? So, like, other people could see you?”

“Ah, thanks for the reminder,” he says, shifting his appearance to match what he looked like last night. “This form makes it easier for me to deal with any dangers you might encounter.”

“What kind of dangers?” I ask as I open my bedroom door.

And I look at the floor.

Ha ha, hey, guess what I forgot all about?

As I step into my living room/kitchen, I rediscover the dudebro’s corpse lying on the carpet.

“…Oh my God,” I say as the memories from last night start popping back into place.

“You killed a guy?” Lee says.

“I mean… I didn’t mean to, but…” I say, my heart beating so hard.

“This… might cause problems with your trial,” he says. “Wait, hold on.”

He places two fingers on my forehead.

“…Um?”

“Oh, yep,” he says. “He’s in here. He’s confused, but he’s in here. Along with some pretty weird stuff, but…”

“What?” I say.

“All the alcohol was clouding him over, but his soul is in you. What do you think you breathed in last night?”

…Wait, the creepy dudebro is…

“Hey, come on now,” a regrettably-familiar voice says. “Stop it with the biased slander of my good reputation!”

“You’re reading my thoughts!?” I say.

“With the right training, I could change that,” Lee says.

“Really?” I say.

“But not before you eat. You’re probably about to topple over if you’re just now dealing with this amount of power.”

“…Fine,” I say. “Guess I’ll deal with this unwanted narrator.”

“Aren’t you going to even ask me what my name is?” Dudebro says.

“Fine. Sure. What’s your name, Dudebro.”

“…It’s Brody.”

I wince.

“Are you kidding me?”

“What? I can’t help it if it’s my name.”

“Look, I didn’t mean to kill you. …Kinda. Lee, is there any way we could just give this guy back his body and forget this ever happened?” I say. “Somehow, I feel a little guilty about killing him.”

“Same story; you gotta eat first,” Lee says, crossing to the door. “C’mon, you said you wanted Mickey’s, so we’re going to Mickey’s. His body will keep until we get back.”

“What if someone finds it, though?” I ask.

“They won’t,” Lee says.

“But—”

“They won’t. I swear it.”

I see the meaningful look in his eyes and nod. “Right. OK. Sure, let’s go.”

“Why do you have all the lyrics to ‘American Pie’ memorized?” Brody asks.

Oh, dear Lord. What even is my life.