Looking Over Your Shoulder

Death is boring. It is only when you have to "live" through the aftermath that you realise how much time you have on your hands. ### "I like to read over people's shoulders, I mean there isn't much else to do when you have no one to talk to. I just never expected anyone to see me, I thought the point of being dead was to be invisible. +This is just a work of fiction, and not intended to dissuade anyone's faith and/or beliefs on what happens after death. Neither is it a reflection of the author's beliefs. Additionally, no intention should be made to copy the work in any way unless given permission by the author.+ (I have this posted on here and on Wattpad, but that is the only two sites I use).

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1. #1 Shattered Shards

Death. Economic crisis. Fraud. Political injustice. I started off by reading newspapers. I liked the way the pages crackled as they turned, the scent of coffee emanating from the person reading it, and let's not forget catching up on the events of the world. It didn't feel right to invade peoples homes; to scare the children as the dog barked at thin air. I read newspapers in the day and the content on people's phones in the night. Occasionally, I would read a few chapters of a book.

The stale scent of alcohol filled my senses as I stood next to a bar stool. There was no age limit on the dead. People didn't talk very much, that was something you learned from a lot of observation. I used to be wrapped up in my own little world; the world of e-books and music. People are more interested in the screens on their phones than the world around them. That gave me a perfect window, they didn't care that I was there. The slight raise of the hairs on the back of theirs necks, the ice cold feeling sweeping from their head to their feet; they didn't notice it.

Where are you? When will you be home?- Anna

The classic runaway husband, the one who tried as much as possible to squeeze a pint in before he ambled home. I had seen my fair share of those. He hunched over his phone, his fingers frozen over the screen as he tried to think of a reply.

On my way home, had to work late tonight. x -Dan

It was an effort for him to pull himself off of the stool, his stiff joints complaining at the movement. He turned and walked straight through me. I saw my figure disperse like smoke before rejoining after he passed me. He didn't even flinch.

I stayed for a lot longer after he left, just watching people come and go. Their minds were hazy and their reactions slow, but they were entertaining. There wasn't much else to do. My hand hovered over the glass he had left behind, froth had gathered on the rim. I could imagine the smooth, cool surface underneath my fingertips. But there was nothing, like always, as I tried to curl my hand around it. Even if it shattered into shards, I wouldn't notice.

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