It was Andy from the grave.

"Can you speak up?" Caroline, distracted anyway by something on TV, couldn't understand him.

"I said it's Andy. From the grave. That's the muffling, the grave."

"Well, it doesn't help you're such a mumbler anyway. Wait, do you mean you're actually calling from the coffin?"

"Not really," said Andy, "but I am dead somewhere. I don't feel like I'm in a box. I feel like I'm in a cloud."

"That could be the coffin. I saw it," Caroline remembered, "it was plush."

"That's nice."

"Listen, did you want something? I've gotta head out in a few minutes."

"No. Just calling. I tried Sylvia, but I got her machine," Andy sighed.

"Her voice mail, probably. Who's got a machine anymore?"

"What's that? No answering machines. Those were so much fun..."

"Yeah, well, that's life. Ok, I gotta go, Andy."

"Oh, sure, I understand. I'll talk to you later."

Andy, from the grave, said goodbye.

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mroshaugh (joined almost 11 years ago)
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Veteran of the 90s zine revolution.
Spreading myself thin over blogs, Twitter, FB, etc.
Favorite authors include David Markson, Lydia Davis, Robertson Davies, Donald Barthelme and Richard Brautigan.

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