Pearly gates. Clouds everywhere. Angels, harps, the whole shebang. Except Molly Shepard wasn’t in Heaven. Not yet, anyway. Instead of the welcome wagon she expected, she was sent into a rather earthly looking office and sat waiting in front of a desk until a fit young man came in, mumbling to himself as if he didn’t notice she was there. He sat down at the desk, continued mumbling, what he was saying Molly couldn’t tell, for a few more moments before he cleared his throat and looked up at her.
“Hello child. I hope your death has been pleasant so far,” He spoke gently.
Molly wasn’t sure how to respond. How could death be pleasant? Sure, the chair she was sitting in was the most comfortable she had ever been in, or was it? Perhaps it was just an illusion; after all she was dead and in theory shouldn’t be able to feel anything at all.
“Who are you?” She finally settled on, earning a throaty chuckle from the man.
“Isn’t it o