Gilby had imagined abandoned mansions, dank basements, closets with a single light bulb hanging from a string. When he was alive, he watched all those “ghost hunter-type” shows and was enamored with the thought of an endless afterlife.

“When I am a ghost,” he told himself, “I’m going to scare the crap out of every person who comes to my house.”

It would be so exciting--manifesting as only the vaguest outline of a shadow, whispering in someone’s ear, scooting a piece of furniture ever so slightly. He’d have those people running for the hills.

“What was that bump?” “Did you hear a whisper? It sounded like my name.” “This place is so creepy.” “Holy shitballs that rocking chair just rocked on its own!”

And oh, the fun he would have with a Ouija board.

* * *

But being a ghost wasn’t anything like that. At least, not for him.

Apparently, he hadn’t done enough in his life to warrant being a “Haunting Ghost.” He wasn’t mean enough or fringe enough, or whatever.

Instead, now he was just a “Wandering Ghost.”

Essentially that boiled down to--well, wandering--day in, day out, no routine or pattern, and never anywhere particular to go. Living people couldn’t see him or sense him and he didn’t have the strength to interact with them, either.

So much for an eventful afterlife. What a letdown.

As Gilby wandered the streets of a downtown metropolis (he enjoyed human-watching, at least), he suddenly ran face-first into what felt like a wall of ice. His nose crunched, and if he’d had blood, it would have been gushing.

He rebounded a couple of steps, massaging his nose. There was nothing in front of him except humans going about their regular human lives. He frowned.

Then, from the empty air, a voice spoke.

“Oh hey, Gilby, is that you?”

Gilby sighed. "Hey, Gerald. How’s it going today?”

“Same,” Gerald replied. “You?”

“Same.”

Gilby nodded to himself and he knew Gerald must be nodding too, even though they couldn’t see each other.

“Okay then,” Gerald said. His tone was slightly upbeat, but it was only for show. Gilby knew he was just as bored. “Bump into you later.”

“Later,” replied Gilby. “I’ll go to my right.”

“Okay.”

Gilby took two steps to his right, and continued on his way.