Life and death are not antonyms. The former is a piece of the latter. A hole in a coin, filled up with another, smaller coin. Both fall under the giant umbrella of 'existence.' Let's call that a fifty-dollar coin.

Because of that, death offers neither Heaven nor Hell. It does, however, come with a set of rules, made to be figured out. Unfortunately, whoever came up with them greatly overestimated our thinking capabilities, so the best thing we're left with are guesses.

"Should've known." I sigh, pulling the camper over on the side of the road. The rain's gotten too heavy to see anything. Night's just about to catch up to us, too. No point in going any further today.

"I don't get it." I say, grabbing a Snickers bar off the table, "Why does it rain so much in summer? I mean, I know WHY, I mean more like — why is it happening more often?"

Dee's stretched out on the sofa, hand covering her eyes. She doesn't react.

"I know you're not sleeping." I say.

"Trust me, if I could, I'd be comatose right about now." she groans. "Can't tell which version of you is worse."

"How many versions of me are there?"

"The talking you and the non-talking you."

"What a fantastic burn, Dee. Gold star."

"I'm too tired to be witty. Just not feeling like myself at the moment, if you'd believe it."

"You know what they say—"

"You're not you when you're hungry. Trust me, Snickers can't fix this."

I unwrap the bar. My disappointment upon seeing the state of the monstrosity hiding inside is indescribable. "Because they're melted?"

"Well." she grins. "That's a part of it. There's also the fact I don't eat."

Thunder roars in the distance.

"I heard Nancy Famoza died." she says. "There was a little radio. In the back room of that gas station. Drug overdose. Well, a car crash, technically. But, y'know. Cause and effect."

"I have no idea who Nancy Famoza is." I admit, throwing the melted hunk of chocolate in the garbage.

"Oh, Baby, Baby, show me the ee-lephant / The ee-lephant / I see that you're aa-rrogant / So show me the ee-lephant..."

"That's terrible."

"She's better at it than me. Was." she sits up. "You think she'll end up in one?"

"In what?" I ask.

"An elephant."

"Nah. That'd be too poetic. And clearly, she, a poet, was not."

Guess Number 1. When you die, you will not be greeted by vast, purposeless emptiness. Instead, you will find your consciousness trapped in either an electrical object or a small animal. You are, essentially, a ghost in another shell, if you will.

This next crackle in the sky makes me jump. Dee lifts an eyebrow. I choose not to comment on it.

I look out the window. Definitely feels like we're in the eye of the storm now. In spite of the pouring, I can see it clearly — the lightning dancing in the sky.

I'm not scared of thunder. I don't think I am, anyway. I mean, when you hear it, the worst has already passed, right? If the lightning ever does end up hitting you, you'd have a lot bigger problems than something ringing in your ears.

Guess Number 2. Ghosts seem to produce their own electrical impulses. As such, the machines they end up in can easily sustain themselves, even when unplugged. The same principle applies if they happen to find themselves in animals; impulses will keep powering the nervous system, and the nervous system the rest of the body. Traditional expiration of the body doesn't play much role.

Aside from the rotting, of course. That's a small issue. A slight discomfort, if you will.

It's really just seeing lightning like that, I guess — branching out in the darkness — that makes me shiver. Just a little bit. My Dad wasn't one to admit it, but it scared him, too. He once said it seemed like the sky was splitting open.

Dee pokes my leg. "Brooding again, are we?"

"Of course not." I declare. "Everyone knows you need a cigarette or something to brood. Or be in black-and-white. Or be Batman. Possibly be all three."

"Batman doesn't smoke." she says.

"You don't know. He might."

"Where?"

"The comics."

She chuckles. "Nobody reads comics anymore."

"Now I might, just to spite you."

"I generally assume everything you do is just out of spite for me. As a rule." she stretches.

Guess Number 3. As unknown as the rules of existence might be, there does not appear to be one regarding where a ghost ends up. The thing they 'possess' may be as far as a few feet from their dead body. Or it might be on the other side of the world.

Seeing her stretch, I notice I didn't manage to cover the entirety of her left arm with bandages.

"You feeling okay?" I ask. "Stitches holding up?"

She shrugs. "Don't know. Can't really feel anything. Nothing's fallen off yet, at least."

I blink. "Why did you stretch?"

"What?"

"I mean, you don't feel anything. But why did you stretch?"

"Dunno." she says simply. "I ran out of things to say, so it felt like the natural thing to do."

She begins unwrapping the bandages, starting with her leg. "And seeing as how you've brought up the stitches, and I've got nothing else to distract you with, I guess we'd better go take a look and make sure I'm not entirely falling apart, shall we?"

Guess Number 4. It does not seem possible for a ghost to end up in a living human being.

"Hey." she says, as the last bloodied bandage falls to the ground. "Are you uncomfortable? Seeing me like this?"

"Not really." I say. "I mean, it's not like we've known each other for a long, long while, and that it's suddenly awkward or weird. And, I mean, it isn't really your body, anyway."

"Right. Let me rephrase." She carefully takes her shirt off. "Are you uncomfortable seeing a naked woman before you?"

"No."

"How about one whose limbs are being held together by a layman's stitching?"

I shrug.

Addendum to Guess Number 4. Please note the 'living' part.

I re-do some of the stitches on her forearm. Everything else looks to be fine.

"Doesn't look like you're gonna fall apart just yet." I tell her.

Guess Number 5. Once trapped in an object, most ghosts cannot ever leave their shells voluntarily, as long as the shell itself is intact. if the object or body is destroyed into pieces, the ghost is catapulted into another host, similarly to how it was when they died in the first place.

"What about the skin?" she asks.

I check.

"I don't see anything."

"It's about time to take a bath, right?" she asks.

"If you want."

"I do."

I'm still in awe that someone managed to fit a whole tub in here. Hell, I'm still in awe someone managed to fit a bathroom in the camper to begin with.

Dee lays down in the tub while I open the bag of ice. Filling the tub takes a bit of time, but she's patient the whole way through.

"Thank you." she tells me when I finish.

"No problem. I'll come get you in fifteen, okay?"

She nods, closing her eyes.

I go back to the living space. Thunder seems to have grown more distant. I can hear the little wheel in Ferdinand's cage turning. Little guy sure is energetic.

Poops a lot, too. Way more than when Dee had hold of him.

Addendum to Guess Number 5. The fact that most ghosts cannot change their shells, however, does not mean 'all' — as there are ghosts capable of not only leaving their shells and physically manifesting for short bursts, but transferring their consciousness to other hosts.

Cassie probably knows I took the hamster. I mean, I was the only one who ever took care of it. And not just because Dee was possessing him. I mean, if not for me, who would've? Dan?

Dan.

Just thinking about that guy makes me grit my teeth.

I couldn't do my boy Ferdinand dirty like that, could I?

...Then again, given that he's probably only recently regained control of himself, does he even know who I am?

Dee's voice in the bathroom snaps me back to reality. "That's fifteen, I think."

Getting the ice out takes even longer. My hands feel terrible. Dee helps for this part, at least.

"I'm sorry." she says. "For making you do this."

"Hey." I smile. "I'm doing this for me, too. Can't have you all falling apart and being smelly and shit. Just think of the ants. That'd be way harder to maintain."

"Or maybe you just like how pretty I am now."

"Now, now. Don't let Ferdinand hear you."

She grimaces. "Still. Doing this every day..."

"Not what you signed up for, but it's the hand you've been dealt. Better than the hamster, right?"

"Maybe it's time to stop playing. I mean, if the hamster's the second best to this."

"Something tells me the casino won't just let you cash in your chips."

"Mhh."

Guess Number 6. There is no moving on. It never ends.

Dee sits next to me, her body wrapped in a blanket.

"It actually makes the most sense. For there to be a lot of rain in summer. It's the moisture." Her head rests on my shoulder. "Because it's warm, more water evaporates. The vapor gets caught in the air. That leads to rain. Rinse. Repeat." She glances up at me. "They never teach you the cycle of water in school?"

"Sure they did. But I only remembered the real important stuff."

"Like?"

"Did you know the mitochondria is the powerhouse of all cells?"

"God." She laughs. "That's an old meme."

I blink. "Meme?"

Enough guesses, though. Here's something that's plain true.

"I don't hear thunder anymore." Dee says. "Sky not slipping open anymore. All good."

Some people get to see the ghosts. Sometimes a microwave can just talk to you. Or a cat's meow can sound suspiciously like a swear. I guess it's you can call them 'mediums' or something.

"What would you do? If the sky just split open?" she asks.

I shrug. "I don't know. Get into a catapult. Let it fire me into the white void. See what's on the other side."

"In a cute little astronaut suit?"

"The cutest." I say just before a yawn slips.

Dee clicks her tongue. "There he goes. Tired, in spite of all that coffee. I told you. You literally only get diarrhea."

"You don't know me. You don't know how I poop."

"I can't not notice." she sighs. "Besides, it's only fair. You knew my... digestion habits for like two years." She shivers. "Fucking embarrassing."

My eyes are already closed. "Uh-huh."

I feel her arms wrap around me.

If you happen to be one of those people, you might find yourself being hugged by a talking, yet breathless body.

"Shall I pretend to sleep alongside you?" she asks.

"Free country."

And here's another fact: it won't even feel that bad.