Terminus

Terminus - Necrologue (Diva Books, 2003)

The day I died, you were the first to notice. I would say, you were the one to find me, but I wasn't lost. I was on the bus, on my way into town. Knew exactly where I was going; meeting Pat for lunch and discussing the second scene. The lighting wasn't right. Still isn't. Idiots. And you were going to sort out your bank loan. We were passing through Brook's Bar, past the bookies, but before Loreto College. Just at those traffic lights, as they were turning to green, the bus turned left and I passed on.

It was extremely gentle. I barely noticed and neither did you, not until the right turn onto Bonsall Street. The bus took it a bit sharpish; I slumped sideways and ended up with my face in your lap. Not a bad place to be. My place of choice whenever I had the time. I always had the inclination. I felt my cheeks flush.

Its timing was very inconvenient; death. I had a lot of things I wanted to do. Sticking my face into your lap was one of them, but it was down the list. This was 10.30 in the morning. Your lap, inviting as it is, was more 10.30 at night. There were things I had in mind to fill the space in between.

You looked down at me where I'd settled like a sack of carrots. You were blushing: ashamed of me. Admit it, it's ok. I know I was always one to be easily offended, but considering how things are with me now, taking offence is the last thing on my mind. I saw you flick your head nervously to the right, trying to work out who might have noticed my sidelong collapse.

You jabbed at my shoulder, grunted my name quietly so no-one could overhear. That's when I realised you had no idea I was dead. And if I'm being honest, that's when it sunk in for me, too. I was dead. And what on earth was I going to do about it.

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