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“Alice?”

“What did he say?”

It’s a woman.

“Alice?”

“That name I know,” the woman says. “It’s his lover.”

“The old one?” says the man.

“Yes. The new one’s name is Candy. Or Chihiro, depending on who you ask.”

I reach out for them.

“What the fuck is going on?”

I try to stand, but my legs are string cheese and I fall on my face. It’s not so bad, really. There’s less light down here. I can see furniture. It’s nice stuff. Maybe antiques. They probably have good yard sales in Heaven. I can also see feet. Around a dozen of them.

Hands grab me and help me up.

I’m wearing some kind of gown. Great. Mr. Muninn put me in a fucking choir. I’m definitely not in the mood for that. I don’t even do karaoke.

“Is this Heaven?”

Whatever bunch owns the twelve feet laughs. Someone helps me sit down. It’s goddamn hard and uncomfortable.

“We like to think so,” says the woman. “You keep closing your eyes. You have to open them so they get used to the light.”

I do what she says and this time I can make out faces. They’re not distinct, but I can see enough to know that there are four men and two women.

“How are you feeling? You already look better. You’re getting some color back,” says one of the women.

“Can I have some water?”

“Of course.”

A few seconds later someone presses a paper cup into my hand. I down the whole thing. My throat spasms a little. It’s very dry.

“Feel better?”

“Yeah. That helped. Where am I?”

“You said it yourself. Heaven.”

“Then why do I feel like such shit?”

“You’ve been dead a long time.”

“How long?

“Eleven months, two days, and three hours,” says one of the men.

“That’s not so long in Heaven.”

“It depends on how you define Heaven,” says the woman. “We’ve always felt that Los Angeles is as close to Heaven as you can find in this funny old world.”

I open my eyes and look around the room a lot harder. Faces come into focus. One in particular.