Did you know 9 in 10 people that get struck by lightning live? You’d think I’d survive, right? Well, I didn’t. I think. I’m sort of dead now. Only 1 in 3 thousand people get struck by lightning in their lifetimes. I guess I’m just special like that.

And no, I’m not a ghost. I’m not gonna go haunt Beth’s party. It’s not really her fault that I’m dead. It’s mine, for not staying in my backyard. At least there, the tree would’ve died and not me. But it would’ve been really upsetting, I think. Sort of a… second death for my grandmother. My poor mother, she’s going to be so upset… To drive home and just find my body in the street. I wonder if the umbrella’s flown away.

I look down at myself. I look the same. My hair isn’t any less messy, I don’t have any sort of glow, I’m the same. Guess I’m not an angel, then? I’m standing in the middle of the road, but it’s not the same road. I wonder if this is purgatory. Just walking along one road for the whole of your existence in the afterlife. Off to my left I hear a shout.

“HEY! HEY YOU!” My first thought is that it’s one of those mall kiosk salespeople. You know, the ones that yell at you to come try their product. “YOU’RE THE FIRST PERSON IVE SEEN IN DAYS, DON’T EVEN THINK ABOUT MOVING!” Wow. This guy is really demanding. Nevertheless, I don’t move.

“Hi?” I say as soon as he gets close enough. He looks at the ground at my feet, exclaiming wildly.

“There is a ROAD here!” he yells, crouching down and pointing with both arms. “I have been wandering around this FORSAKEN WASTELAND and there is a ROAD here!” He waves his arms wildly as he gets up, and I almost think he’s gonna fall on the ground.

“Um… yeah.” I can’t even manage to say any kind of words right now. This guy is almost… weirder than that girl I knew in like 5th grade. She insisted that she knew everything her cat was thinking. You can’t know what a cat is thinking, that’s not how cats work.

“Listen, hey, I’m sorry about this. I just… I’ve been wandering for an entire day I swear.” He runs his hand through his hair, and I really take stock of him. It was hard to before, he was busy squatting and yelling at the road.

His hair is kinda medium length, and it’s black. His skin is gorgeous, and I’m jealous. I know instantly that it clashes with mine something awful. I'm part Italian on my dad’s side, although I never met him. My skin has a bit of an olive tone because of it, but his undertones are… blue? It’s gorgeous, and it makes me look washed out.

“What are you wearing?” I can’t help but ask. It’s like someone went into a goodwill and couldn’t find anything at all in their size. His pants are hanging off him (I’m used to that in guys, but this doesn’t look purposeful) and his shirt is just short enough that if he lifted his arms up, it would probably show his stomach. He’s wearing a jacket too, one of those hoodies. But it looks like it could be his older brother’s, the sleeves are entirely too long. It’s almost fashionable in a I-didn’t-really-try kind of way.

“Oh. I dunno.” He looks down, picking at his shirt. My mother would love drawing him. Not only would she spend hours mixing paints for his skin tone, she’d probably examine his cheekbones for days. She does that when she likes a subject. I feel kind of guilty for staring, so I drop my eyes.

“I’m Anne. Sorry for being rude.” I see him look up at me instead of his clothing, so I return his look.

“Oh don’t worry about it. I kinda yelled at the road before even looking at you, so I was rude too. I’m Maximillian, but you can call me Lian. Pleased to meet you.” He bows, and I can’t help but laugh. His hair flops over his face, and he smiles at me as he straightens up.

“Why Lian, why not Max?” I ask, but even as I say it, I know Max isn’t right for him.

“Oh, it’s because there was already a kid named Max, and Max was his given name, so we had to do something else with my name.” I nod, and I note how he doesn’t say a kid at school. Just that there was already a kid, and that the general ‘we’ had to come up with something else. But the odd nickname fits him.

“It fits you.” I find myself saying. I didn’t really mean to, but it happens sometimes. He smiles, just a little half smirk.

“I know.” He seems to realize something that hasn’t been said. “Hey, Anne, right?”

“Yeah, that’s me. I’ll probably forget your name.” I warn him. I’m actually not bad with names, it’s just that sometimes I don’t care enough to remember. Something tells me I won’t forget his though.

“Its fine. Do you think we’re dead?” He asks, staring straight in my eyes. His eyes are dark, a lot darker than mine.

“Yes, Lian. I think we are.”