Chapter 1: Death, Destiny, and My Boss

*I died.*

Yeah, that happened.

It’s weird how fast it happens. One second you’re alive, thinking about lunch or your to-do list, and the next—bam. Nothing. Or, well, not exactly nothing. Because I managed to take my boss down with me.

Seriously, though, if you ever have to take someone along to the afterlife, make sure it’s not your boss. Mine spent the whole ride chewing me out, like we were stuck together in some cosmic carpool from hell.

He didn’t let up for a second—not once. Right up until the moment before we were supposed to start over, he finally wore himself out, his voice hoarse. He finally made peace with me. It was like he just ran out of things to say, and for a second, we just… existed. Quiet. I honestly had no idea what to do with that silence.

I said goodbye to my boss. It felt strange—formal and awkward, but also kind of final, like clocking out for the last time. I half expected him to hand me a performance review or something.

He told me to listen up and count your blessings, and that in the next life, we’d better never meet again. The way he said it, you could tell he meant every word. I almost wanted to promise him, just to keep the peace—as if that would help.

But, of course, the very next second after being reborn, we ran into each other. The universe really does have a sense of humor.

I didn’t mean to die, and I definitely didn’t mean to drag someone else down with me. I don’t usually cause a scene. It was just a company team-building retreat. I slipped while hiking in the Catskills and, without thinking, grabbed the person next to me.

Turns out, the person standing beside me was my boss. Of all people. It could have been anyone else—an intern, the HR manager, even the guy from accounting who always microwaved fish at lunch—but nope. Fate picked my boss.

We both tumbled off a cliff together. It was a brutal way to go. Not exactly how I pictured my obituary.

On the way down, I got snagged by a tree branch, so my boss hit the ground before I did. I had this split-second where I thought, maybe I’ll make it. Yeah, right. Gravity had other plans.

I landed right on top of him, breaking a few more of his ribs. Not that it mattered by then. I remember thinking, “Sorry, boss.” Too late for apologies, huh?

The second before he died, he glared at me, unwilling to go, and forced out a single word: “You…”

I’m pretty sure he wanted to say, “You son of a—!” Because that was his favorite catchphrase. He used it so much in the office, we joked he should trademark it. Classic.

—

On the road to the afterlife. It’s not as dramatic as people say—no flames, no golden gates. Just this endless, gray highway, like the New Jersey Turnpike that never ends. My boss kept poking the back of my head and cursing up a storm.

“Damn it! I finally made it as an entrepreneur, and you got me killed. Were you sent by the universe just to punish me?”

“Do you have any idea we just signed a four-million dollar contract?”

“Do you even know what I went through these past four years building my company?”

He went on like that for a while. I almost expected him to start handing out quarterly reports, right there in the afterlife. Figures.

“I’m sorry, boss. I really didn’t mean to.”

I muttered an apology, not even daring to argue. It’s just what you do—fall in line, keep your head down. That’s the fate of an office drone: always owing the boss a debt. That was true when I was alive, and apparently it’s still true after I died. Some things never change, even in the afterlife.

When my boss finally ran out of steam, he suddenly started crying. It was awkward, seeing someone so powerful just break down. He said he’d just proposed to his girlfriend, and they were supposed to get married at the end of the year. Now he was dead for no good reason, and he was worried his girlfriend wouldn’t be able to go on, that she’d be left alone.

Was I jealous? Maybe a little. Poor me, over twenty years old, and never loved like that by anyone. It hit me in a weird way, like I’d missed out on something big and didn’t even know it.

I patted my boss on the back, trying to comfort him. “Hey, look on the bright side. At least there’s someone who always loved you. That’s more than most people get.”

He told me to get lost, then went back to crying and cursing at the same time. So, yeah. Back to business as usual.

That’s how we made it to the River Lethe—the river of forgetting. A woman in white offered us a cup of water. She said that after drinking it, we’d forget all our past lives and be ready to start fresh. She had a voice like a flight attendant, calm and matter-of-fact, as if she’d done this a thousand times before. Like it was just another day at the office.

My boss freaked out and absolutely refused to drink it. He said he didn’t want to forget his girlfriend, and even after starting over, he’d find her again and pick up where they left off. He was stubborn as ever, even on the threshold of a new life.

If my boss refused, then so did I. I had people I didn’t want to forget, too. Maybe not a soulmate, but family, friends, memories that mattered. I held onto them for dear life.

Before crossing the river, I sincerely apologized again. “Boss! I’m sorry for this life. Next time, I’ll make it up to you, bust my ass if I have to.”

My boss sighed and waved it off. “Forget it, I know you didn’t mean it. Hope you get a better roll of the dice next time.”

I was so touched, I grabbed his hand to say goodbye. He looked terrified, pulled his hand away, and, with a nervous little laugh, said, “Let’s never meet again in the next life.”

—