100 – Open

“– Significance, I used to think a lot about that word.

But for one reason or another that’s as far as I got.

Not for lack of wanting, mind you. It’s just that somehow life seemed to pass as a fast train while I kept waiting at the platform.

I always wanted to be something, even if that something morphed and changed with every age.

Astronaut, fireman, pilot, actor, astronomer… an endless dreams of somethings I wanted to become that somehow never went beyond the wanting.

And now, there’s no more time for wanting.

Being dead isn’t that bad after all, you don’t really feel anything… well, except for maybe a little awkward for all the things you can see now that everyone else can’t see you.

For one thing, you can learn what people really thought about you. It’s a mixed bag, some nice surprises, a lot of not some nice ones and some really unexpected twists.

Anyway, I really must be going now.”

The slim figure floats away from the table, leaving its now cold coffee untouched.

I take a sip from mine and wave goodbye.

Being able to see the dead can get old when you’ve done it all your life. But they always seem to need someone to talk to, and I guess I’m a good listener.

I still get some awkward looks from the barista. You know, the weird guy who gets two coffees and sits alone for hours letting one go cold. But I guess as long as a pay and not get too weird it’s all good, so that’s that.

I leave a good tip on the table, just for good measure, and go home.