January 2019

January 2, 2019

He had died the day after New Years. And his body was not found until a week later.

By then, he had watched it start to bloat and rot in the warm apartment air. He watched, bemused, as familiar features became distorted and vulgar. It was the only entertainment he had once he realized he couldn't touch anything.

Because he was dead.

Every time he remembered that fact, he laughed. How ridiculous was it that he died tripping halfway down his stairs?

It didn't take long for him to establish a routine. He liked having order, after all. He would spend most of the day watching the goings on of the city outside of his kitchen windows. At night, he would futilely attempt to move anything and everything.

One night, he spent it screaming at the top of his lungs. The next day, his landlord finally came to check on him. ONly to find a bloated corpse.

Donovan watched as the man covered his mouth with his hand, making noises that made the ghost think of impending vomit.

"Please don't vomit on my rug." He remembers saying in the vague way he remembers anything anymore.

Im the end, the landlord, Arnie, he not puked and had gone to call the police from his ancient flip phone. The police had filled his apartment within the hour.

That was the most excitement he had seen in a week. He didn't know if he appreciated it or not.

It only took another week to empty the rooms of all his earthly possessions. Though, he only regretted seeing his books go. His only friends in the world.