I Died, But He Wouldn’t Let Go / Back from the Dead, PTO Style
I Died, But He Wouldn’t Let Go

I Died, But He Wouldn’t Let Go

Author: Michael Branch

Back from the Dead, PTO Style

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In the third year after I died, I finally passed the Underworld’s civil service exam. Yeah, apparently the afterlife has paperwork too. Who knew? From that point on, I had official holidays—actual PTO—and could come back to visit the land of the living.

It’s funny—passing a test after you’re dead sounds like it should be a breeze. No sweaty palms, no panic attacks. But the Underworld’s red tape is brutal. Still, the second I felt that official stamp of approval on my ghostly résumé, I pretty much floated all the way to the surface—even though my heart hadn’t beat in years. Go figure. Holidays, huh? Never thought I’d be excited about PTO from the afterlife. Who knew?

Today, I floated up and spotted Carter right where I always used to find him—at a cozy coffee shop in downtown Maple Heights, the kind with Edison bulbs and a Starbucks across the street. He was sitting across from a girl, smiling and chatting like it was just another Saturday.

The place hadn’t changed a bit since before I died—string lights twinkling in the windows, some chill indie playlist humming in the background, and the barista with sleeve tattoos—still judging everyone’s orders. Carter looked just the same, except for the tired shadows under his eyes. He leaned in, laughing at something the girl said, and for a second, it was like I’d been dropped right back into my college days, watching him from across a crowded room.

"Men really are all the same! I’ve only been gone a little over two years, and you already have a new girlfriend? And you promised you’d love me forever—yeah, right!"

I hovered next to Carter, invisible to everyone else, arms crossed and muttering like a cranky old ghost in a haunted house. Seriously? Unbelievable. I rolled my eyes. He didn’t even flinch—just kept up that easy smile, like nothing in the world could bother him. Classic Carter.

Taking advantage of my invisibility, I stuck close to Carter, muttering and cursing under my breath. He frowned slightly, but kept laughing and talking with the girl. Figures.

Honestly, it stung a little to see him so at ease. Of course he still orders cinnamon lattes. I drifted closer, close enough to catch the sweet, spicy scent, and whispered, "Hope she likes your snoring, buddy." For a split second, he paused, brow furrowing, but then he shook it off and kept chatting. Who knows, maybe he felt a chill. Maybe, deep down, he missed me.

There was something about the girl—she looked familiar, but I just couldn’t put my finger on it. Not that it should surprise me. Ever since I died and wound up in the Underworld, my memories got fuzzier by the day. I even forgot how I died.

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