One Day Too Late

Jordan

Echo's P.O.V.-

The next day as I'm wandering the streets I discover something; I'm not the only one. There are others, ranging from a lost little girl who looks about four, to an elderly lady. There are very many, and they all seem to be doing something, they all seem to have a purpose. 

The old lady is following a man around, most likely her husband. She's yelling comments like, 

"Tie your shoes!" 

"Your tie is undone!" 

You're a mess!" 

I assume she stuck around to nag him until he joins her.  All of them are like her, attached to a person or place. Even the little girl is doing something. She keeps throwing a ball into the street, chasing it, and flickering back to where she started whenever she gets to the middle of the road. Creepy. 

The people are gruesome, a man with a pulsing bullet wound, a woman with burn marks covering half er face. Even the people without violent deaths are scary, it's like they're flesh is rotting away. I hope I never become one of them.

I feel a shock go through me as I recognize one of the faces; it's a boy from my school. His name is Jordan, we hung out a few times but I never really knew him. He died from malnutrition. 

He notices me when I notice him,

"Hey Echo," he gives me a half-smile. He's not to the rotting corpse stage yet, but I can see his bones, every one of them. 

"Hi," I stutter, still surprised to see him. He regards me with an expression I can't quite read. 

"What?" I furrow my brow in confusion. 

"It's just nice to see you." 

Realizing what he said he amends his statement, 

"Well, not nice that you're dead, that's terrible, It's just nice to see your face and have you see mine as well. You have no idea how infuriating it is to talk to someone and them not be able to hear you." 

"Actually," I shrug, "I do." 

Only after I reply I grasp that this means he tried to contact me after he died. 

"Oh," he nods, "I guess you do, how did you umm. . ." 

"Die?" I question. 

He sheepishly nods 

"Suicide," I look down, but not before I catch the look of empathy cross his face. He was dispirited, but not surprised. He din't argue with me as I stated that it was better than the alternative; living.

"Oh, Echo," he breathes, wrapping his arms around me. I'm surprised to find that I hug him back. We move on to more mundane topics of conversation as we drift through Nowheresville New Hampshire. As we talked, I found out a few fundamentals of being dead.

First, that it takes a lot to contact the living. 

"You can only do it when the person is injured, in danger, or about to die. Every once in a while you hear stories about contact being made when a person is extremely emotional, but that's rare," he explains. 

"Also," he continues, "there's usually a reason you're still here. Family, friends, revenge. The usual."

"Oh," is all I can get out. If I find out why I'm here, I have a chance of moving on. 

Suddenly I hear the bells chime, 1, 2, 3. Harmony will be home from school soon. 

"Hey Jordan, I gotta run. Places to go people to haunt, ya know?" I laugh. 

"Speaking of which, who are you here for?" I toss over my shoulder jokingly. 

He gives me a undecipherable half-smile, and says one word,

"You."