the Offer

It was the dead man - from the subway car - he was still dead - and see- through.

"Hello," said Stacy. She couldn't think of anything else to say or do.

A stray sheet of newspaper flitted and fluttered as a momentary breeze passed along the street. It blew through the left buttocks of the dead dude, then went along its way along the sidewalk, skirting the public bench and then scraping along the gutter until something that looked like a clown's glove pulled it down into the sewer.

"Could you help me?" asked the ghost.

"And what could I do for you?" asked Stacy. "No, wait. I know. You want me to help you finish a task that was left undone before your death, so that on its completion you'll be free of any earthly obligations and soar into the netherverse. Or... maybe you were murdered by a ruthless mobster or businessman or politician (aren't they the same thing anyway?) and you want an earthly revenge so that your immortal soul can rest in peace." Stacy stood, waiting, for his response.

"Uh, no," said the ectoplasmic form. "I lost my towel. I was wondering if you would help me find it."

Stacy stared at the ghost. She stared at her twenty-story apartment complex. She stared at the stinkbug crawling through the left big toe of the dead man. She stared at her half-ruined driver's license. She stared at what looked like the tail of an albino alligator disappearing around the corner of the dry-cleaner's across the street. She looked the ghost- man in his transparent eyes as she came to a decision.

"No," she said, and half ran to the main doors of the apartment complex.

1. Fumbling with her keys she makes it inside and breathes a sigh of relief
2. The ghost-dude follows
3. Before she makes it inside, even before the ghost can respond, the eeire sound of undead equines startles them both and as they turn and look down the street they see four black horses pulling the spectral funeral carriage of an ex-president

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