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.”