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I hug myself like I’m cold, but I’m not. I’m just dead and very confused. “Sorry, where am I?”

The girl leans back in her squeaky office chair and smiles, not a toothy smile, just a curve of her lips into something wry. It doesn’t make me relax. Pretty much the opposite, actually.

“Forgive me,” she says. “I should have said that first, huh?” She holds out her arms, a mini Christ the Redeemer behind the front desk of a two-star motel. “Welcome,” she says, “to heaven.”

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