Today is the anniversary of my death and the universe shakes me from my slumber with a start. When the disorientation settles it dawns on me where I am, and what I’m about to do, again. I materialise into the body I had when alive and head down a familiar tree-lined street, bound for the corner shop. Sparrows fall silent as I shuffle under their rustling elm trees. The twenty-dollar note has returned to my clenched fist. The twenty is charmed with choice, I’ve understood this for a while, but I can’t as yet get control my hand to spend it.
This frustrates me to no end and, even though for this day I am a seen as a solid man with all human desires and senses reinstated, the stench of guilt eats at me. Years pass for the living and mobile phones transform from bricks to pebbles. And I am stuck to observe this for an eternity. Trapped by a stupid mortal mistake.
A northerly breeze warms my face and blowflies buzz in a symphony across my shoulders. At the traffic lights I round the corner and leave the side street behind. The main street bustles with weekend shoppers and doof doof music. The sky is a blanket of baby blue. I stretch my neck upward and savour the control, the movement a small freedom from my captor.