The Borrowed Souls, A Novel

Chapter 1

The silence of the approaching dawn was upon me, and the impact from my foolish choices was deafening. Lost and disoriented, I could almost hear the voice screaming out instructions for what to do next. The only problem: Wilson was dead and he could no longer speak. He sat next to me, slightly slumped to the side, but not enough to tumble off the park bench.I looked into his hollow, lifeless eyes and wondered what I had gotten myself into.

While Wilson’s fixed gaze continued to stare into the ether, I took in my immediate surroundings. The sun was on the rise, and a faint mist hung low to the ground. It seemed like only moments earlier that I was awakened from my suicidal sleep, before heading out into the deserted streets of the city. Now here I was, sitting next to a soulless body, and for all intents and purposes, I was no longer a living, breathing man, either.

Do I have to breathe now? I wondered. Now that I am a soul collector? Breathing is such an absentminded act that you normally don’t pay much attention to—unless you can’t do it, that is. I straightened my back and focused on the rhythmic action of air moving in and out of my lungs. After a particularly deep breath, I stopped breathing. I wasn’t exactly holding my last breath, I just ceased to take another. As I sat listening to the early morning sounds of the city, I began to feel my lungs burn. They were being starved for air. Beads of sweat quickly formed at my temples, and I felt the womp-womp of my heartbeat in my ears. Finally, when I didn’t think I could take any more, I felt a hard slap on my back and I inhaled sharply. I spun around, but there was no one there. I looked at Wilson, certain that he wasn’t capable of raising his lifeless arm to smack air into my lings.

Concluding that my mind must still be coming off the drugs I took earlier, I took several more breaths of fresh air and focused my attention on the box in my hand. It was made of wood and was about the size of an old Rubik’s Cube. An intricate pattern covered the box, and appeared to be hand carved. The box wasn’t worn or scratched. It looked brand-new. I opened it and looked at the interior, which was void of the ornate whittling present on the outside. Closing the box again, I read the name engraved on the top.

Cyndi Duffy.

Reading her name sent chills up and down my spine, and I wondered where she was. If my new job, as Wilson explained, was to collect souls, then I needed to find Cyndi, my wife, and collect hers. I closed my eyes and tried to envision her face in my mind. Strangely, I could not pull her likeness into focus.

“Wilson, a little help here would be nice,” I said aloud, but Wilson’s frozen gaze didn’t falter. I followed his line of sight and noticed that he was staring directly at a billboard: The Dodson Apartment Center—40 stories of high-end living is closer than you think. Just 12 blocks south, in midtown.

“Well, then. Thanks, Wilson. Had I been paying attention during our little talk earlier, I could’ve figured things out all on my own.” I stood and looked around to get my bearings. The sun was on the rise and recognition began to set in. I really was just a few blocks from home. I smiled wryly at myself. The pills from yesterday must have caused some serious disorientation, severely impairing my senses. Now confident about my location and where I needed to go, I headed for home.

Chapter 2

I walked in silence for several blocks, wondering what I would say to Cyndi when I walked into our apartment. “Hi, honey. I need you to spit your soul into this box, you cheating whore.” No, I didn’t think that’d quite do the trick. Perhaps a more subdued approach would be more appropriate. “Excuse me, but would you mind not saying a word while I perform a soulectomy on your sorry ass?” Again, no.

As various scenarios of the inevitable confrontation ran through my mind, I absentmindedly crossed 49^th against the light. A taxi sped by me, nearly hitting me. I stopped in my tracks mere seconds before getting blasted by the hustling driver. I quickly jumped back onto the curb and waited for the light to change. After a few moments, the white walker light shone brightly, and I once again moved into the street.

Stepping onto the curb at the other side of the street, my mind reeled at the sudden realization. If I was going to collect Cyndi’s soul, she had to be close to death. After my brief discussion earlier with Wilson about how soul collection worked, I knew it was too late for Cyndi. But despite her cheating ways, I was still apprehensive about her impending death. My mind bounced from one tragic thought to another about what could have happened to her. Maybe it was just an accident, and she was hit by a speeding taxi, just like the one that almost hit me. Or maybe she’d felt bad about her actions and decided to take her own life, similar to my own actions yesterday.

As I crossed 43rd, halfway back to the apartment, I slowed my pace. Various dreadful thoughts of what could have happened to Cyndi continued to course through my mind. I realized that if she was on death’s bed, she might not even be at home. She was probably laid up in some hospital bed. Or worse, she could be lying face down in some dark and dingy alley, unable to move. Panic seeped into my soul, but I didn’t know what to do or where to go. My mind cycled through all the options in front of me, and I flashed back to when she had fallen in the park a few weeks ago. She had elected to go to County General for help. Just as the thought of the hospital pulled up in my mind, my vision suddenly faded to black and I felt as if I was being hoisted above a crowd and carried through the air by the random hands of strangers. I tried to open my eyes and look around, but it was useless. Darkness prevailed. The rush stopped as quickly as it had begun, and my vision swiftly returned. Once I was able to focus again, I doubled over and involuntary puked. When nothing came out, I gather that there was most likely nothing was left to vacate from my stomach. It was just dry heaves, most likely caused from whatever that … feeling was. I looked around and discovered that I had mysteriously transported onto the seventh floor of the hospital.

I stood in front of the bank of elevators, alone. Straight ahead was a vacant reception station. To my left and to my right, long corridors led to various unknown rooms. I stepped up to the reception desk and waited. After what felt like an eternity, I realized that either the station was unattended at this hour or the receptionist was running errands somewhere else in the hospital. I decided to explore the floor on my own, figuring that I had been brought here for a reason—meaning Cyndi was probably near.

Turning around, I noticed a sign on the wall. Arrows indicated that rooms 701 through 718 were to the left, and ICU/CCU was to the right.

“ICU it is,” I said aloud and headed down the corridor.

As I moved through the vacant hallway, I came upon a pair of glass doors leading into the intensive care unit. Gripping the handle on the left, I pulled, but the door did not budge. I tried the handle on the right but was met with the same result. I leaned close to the glass door and peered in as far as my eyes could see. The corridor veered to the right, disappearing out of sight. I looked around for some sort of communication device and found a small buzzer button. I pressed it and waited. Moments later, the door buzzed back and I heard an audible click at the door handle. I pushed through and walked down the hall.

The first room I came to was empty. Across the hall was another room—also empty. But another pair of doors further down the hallway looked promising. Each of the doors had medical clipboards hanging on hooks right outside. As I approached, I could read the names on the top sheets of the clipboards. Dewayne Mitchell and Leonard Stewart. I continued to walk down the hall, reading names off of charts. As I turned the corner, I saw what appeared to be a central nurse’s station at the hub of several additional rooms. There was one attendant present, and he had his back toward me. I continued to move along the right-hand side, reading names on the charts as I went. Finally, as I was about to walk into the attendant’s view, I saw Cyndi’s name. I stepped into her room and pulled the curtain closed.

I took a deep breath, then turned to look at my wife. She lay unconscious, with multiple tubes and wires attached to various parts of her body. As I moved to her bedside, I noticed her face was bruised and battered. Almost as if she’d been beaten to a pulp. Both of her legs and one of her arms were wrapped in some kind of soft cast that prevented movement. Her left arm was also bruised. The rhythmic beep-beep from the machine next to her bed was all that could be heard.

Not knowing the proper procedure, I pulled the wooden box from my pocket and placed it on her chest. I opened the box and stepped back. Nothing happened. I leaned in and gently touched the side of her cheek.

“Oh, baby, what happened to you?” I asked.

She remained silent.

Fighting back tears, I attempted to open her mouth, thinking that her soul likely needed a clear pathway to vacate her body. As I pulled apart her lips, I noticed that her jaw had been wired shut. Blood and mucus coated her teeth, and the sight of it made me cringe.

Frustrated, I grabbed the box and snapped it shut before shoving it into my pocket. As I did so, my hand brushed against the coin that Wilson had used to bring back my memories.

I slipped the coin from my pocket as I lowered myself into the chair next to her bed. I rubbed the coin thoughtfully, contemplating my options. In order for the soul to release from its host, did I need to relive something from the host’s past?

“What do you think, Cyn? Care to take a trip down memory lane?” I asked.

She didn’t answer, of course. I figured it was probably best that way. I’m not sure I wanted to hear her pleas of protest, not wanting me to experience something that would not shine a flattering light on her.

“Here goes nothing,” I said as I turned the coin over inside my hand, just like I had done numerous times with Wilson by my side. Nothing happened.

“Dammit,” I exclaimed. I sprang from the chair and paced about the room, wondering what it was that I needed to do. I walked back and forth at the foot of her bed, thinking as I fumbled with the coin.

It struck me that it was Cyndi that needed to turn the coin in order to activate her memories. I moved back to her side and placed the coin in her hand. Without touching it myself, I used her fingers to flip the coin over in the palm of her hand. Darkness enveloped me as I vanished from the hospital room.

Chapter 2.5

Cyndi Duffy was engrossed in a dream when the first flashes of light fell upon her closed eyes. She squeezed them tight, determined to thwart the advance of day. With the dream so close to becoming fully lucid, she didn’t want to move an inch for fear of losing the warmth of Kevin’s touch.

The early morning dream had been the third in as many days, and even though they were really just fantasy delusions, she still felt guilty for having them. She knew that she should at least be dreaming about Jack instead of Kevin. But it had been years since Jack had given her butterflies like Kevin gave her now, imaginary or otherwise.

Eager to stay in the moment, she welcomed Kevin’s gentle touch as he began to caress her body. She moaned softly as his hands worked their way over her breast and down across her abdomen. She lost track of Kevin’s hands though when he leaned in and kissed her. The moment his lips touched hers, passion tugged at all of her senses. She longed for his body to melt deep inside of hers, when she heard him say something. Confused, she wondered how he could be talking when his lips were firmly planted on her own. She tried to ask “What?” but all that came out was “Hrmm?”

The voice, louder now and obviously not coming from Kevin, said, “I love you, baby.” Cyndi’s mind snapped out of her mildly erotic dream and into the early morning reality of her own life. She recognized Jack’s voice at once and began to stir. Without opening her eyes, for fear that he would sense her betrayal, she murmured, “Me too. You better get up or you’ll be late again.”

Hoping that the dream would only pause long enough for her husband to get started on his day, Cyndi lay silently without moving.

Jack broke her comfortable silence “I know. I was just lying here thinking about…”

It quickly became obvious to Cyndi that Jack wasn’t ready to get out of bed just yet. She figured that she might as well soothe his soul for a few minutes before he got ready for work. It was the least she could do, considering what she was just about to do. Albeit in a delusional fantasy.

“About what?” she asked, sliding her head over to rest on his chest. She lay motionless as he formed his response.

Lying on his back, Jack began to stroke Cyndi’s hair as if he were petting a cat. “My project. Life. You. Take your pick.”

As Jack spoke, Cyndi knew that there was more to his response than met the eye. It had been several months since his depression had surfaced, and she’d thought that he had finally gotten control of it. Not wanting to let him focus on the troubles at work anymore than he already was, she tried to steer their conversation in a lighter direction. “I’m happy I’m in there somewhere.”

Surrendering to the morning light, she opened her eyes slightly and stared up at the ceiling. She didn’t focus on anything in particular, but just laid in place while her eyes adjusted to the morning brightness.

“What are your plans for today? Want to have lunch?” Jack asked.

Accepting the fact that her dream was indeed lost, she looked at the alarm clock before answering. “I can’t today. I’m volunteering at the Redevelopment Foundation, remember?”

The Redevelopment Foundation was the one thing that Cyndi was passionate about. Jack’s income was enough for them to live comfortably without her having to take a job, and in the beginning, that was all that she wanted. To stay home and be a loving housewife. She’d enjoyed filling her days with making their home a happy one. For the first few years, that was enough. Then, once they discovered their challenges of starting a family, Cyndi quickly became bored of being Suzy Homemaker. The foundation alleviated that apathy, if only for once a week. Seeing Kevin on a weekly basis was just a perk. She forced the remains of her dream from her mind, and knew that she had some difficult decisions ahead.

After several minutes, Jack finally responded. “Oh right. The foundation. When will you be done?”

“The donation center is open until five, so I should be home around the same time as you,” Cyndi said as she sat up and stretched. She winced at the pain that shot up her spine. It had been two weeks since the shameful accident, and she wasn’t sure how much longer she could keep the truth from Jack.

“Does it still hurt?” he asked, a look of concern crossing his face.

Seeing his expression made it that much more difficult for Cyndi to lie. She had to either come clean with Jack or stop things with Kevin, completely. “Yeah. I was hoping I didn’t need to fill the prescription again, but—”

“If it hurts, fill it. You don’t have to take them all,” Jack said, the sound of concern thick in his voice.

After several more minutes of mundane conversation, Cyndi was happy to have solitude once again, as Jack finally got out of bed and into the shower. She rolled over and tried to reenter sleep.

Chapter 3

I removed the coin from Cyndi’s hand and leapt from her bedside. “Why didn’t you tell me?” I asked.

I looked at her, expecting to find a dispassionate countenance on her face. Instead, she wore frown lines between her eyes—almost as if she was in misery. I looked around for her medical chart in hopes of determining whether she was on any pain medication. Unfortunately, it was nowhere in sight. I suddenly remembered seeing it hanging just outside the door in the nurses’ station. Not wanting to explain my presence in the ICU ward, I opted to check the label on her bedside IV instead of going for her chart.

As I moved toward the medical contraption positioned on the opposite side of Cyndi’s bed, I heard footsteps right outside her room. The curtain was still closed, and I figured I had only seconds to get out of sight before somebody walked in. I burst toward the bathroom and latched the door behind me with only seconds to spare. Once inside the small tiled room, I discovered that it was a shared toilet with the adjacent room, and its door was wide open. Panic enveloped me as I inched toward the open door and peered into the adjoining room. My fear was quickly abated upon finding the room empty.

I moved back to Cyndi’s common door and waited, listening intently to the sounds that trickled in from her room. I could hear muffled voices, but nothing discernible. As I leaned against the closed door, my mind replayed Cyndi’s morning, clouding my thoughts. I decided that some fresh air was in order.

Hoping to get out of ICU unnoticed, I walked into the adjoining room and out into the wide open corridor. As I looked about the nurses’ station, it was clear that a shift change had taken place, as there were three new nurses milling about behind the counter. To my surprise, nobody paid me any attention. Seeing a second exit just to the right, I took my chances and walked right past the counter and through the door. Without turning to look back, I continued my march and headed for the exit stairway. Moments later, I stepped out into the morning sun. Mindlessly, I moved out into the burgeoning crowd of pedestrians and quickly fell in with the flow of foot traffic.

As I walked silently among the morning crowd, I wondered what I was going to do. I knew I had to collect Cyndi’s soul, but when was it going to come out? Did I have to experience her entire day, leading up to whatever accident had happened to her? I wasn’t sure I had it in me to experience the fornication from her point of view. Just seeing the few moments of her internal thoughts from yesterday morning was enough to make my blood boil.

As I moved through the streets of the city, the ebb and flow of the pedestrian crowd took me along the edge of City Park. Looking out across the vast acreage of green grass and flowering beds, fond memories began to surface in my mind, and I slowed my pace. I felt the people around me become agitated, so I began to make my way to the edge of the crowd.

“Excuse me,” I said. “Pardon me.” I repeated the niceties several times, without a single comment in return. I realized then that there really were some rude people in the city. Had I been one of them before, I wondered.

As I neared the edge of the crowd, I inadvertently bumped into another person.

“Forgive me,” he said as he continued walking away from me. Despite his reluctance to slow down, he at least exercised common courtesy.

Finally making it to the edge of the city herd, I sidled up to a metal rail at the edge of the park and stared out onto the massive lawn. “What the hell am I doing?” I asked.

Slowly, I looked around the park until I noticed a small footbridge a few hundred feet from where I was standing. I remembered crossing that bridge on the numerous walks that Cyndi and I used to take. Without any other reason to return to that bridge but for memory’s sake, I decided to cross it and follow the path for a while.

I stepped back into the flow of pedestrians until I reached the access point, moving through the crowd at my own pace. As I neared the break in the metal railing surrounding the park, I realized that nobody on the sidewalk was paying any attention to me whatsoever. I stopped directly in the middle of the moving crowd, and not a single person bumped into me or stepped around me. It was like I wasn’t even there, and the people somehow just avoided me entirely. That’s when I remembered something that Wilson had said while sitting on his park bench.

He’d said, “There are consequences. You would not be able to talk to anyone from your previous life again. The only conversations permitted would be with the dead or dying, much like I am speaking to you now.”

Curious, I turned to face the oncoming flow of pedestrians head on. As a particularly attractive young woman approached me directly, I screamed, “Can anyone see me?” at the top of my lungs. Not a single reaction from anyone in the crowd. I was invisible to the world around me. I began walking against the flow of the crowd, and not a single person bumped into me or stopped because of me being there. Everyone just … avoided me, almost instinctively. That’s when the sudden realization hit me: the person who had acknowledged me not five minutes earlier was the only one who could see me.

I stretched my neck above the crowd in hopes of catching a glimpse of the stranger, although I probably couldn’t have picked him out of a two-person lineup. I should have been disturbed about the entire crowd not acknowledging me, but it was the one stranger that did that really shook me up.

I rushed through the crowd to where I thought I remembered bumping into him, but he wasn’t there. Then I remembered he’d been walking in the other direction. Maybe if I ran in that direction I could find him again.

I began pushing my way back through the crowd, wishing I could talk to someone, anyone, that could help me complete my job. If Wilson could have only stuck around for a little while…

Suddenly, I vanished from the crowded sidewalk and reappeared next to Wilson’s dead body.

Chapter 4

“What the hell?” I said. Again, my stomach felt a little queasy, but I didn’t retch this time.

Wilson’s body continued to sit and stare at the faded billboard, his eyes beginning to develop a white fog. Freaked out by his bizarre, zombie-like eyes, I dropped my hand over his line of sight and tried to force them closed. But rigor mortis had set in and they were fixed open. I had a crazy idea to put sunglasses on him. Unfortunately, I didn’t have a pair with me, so I began to check Wilson’s pockets. In the first pocket I searched, I found a vintage pair of horn-rimmed shades and slid them onto his face. I leaned back and smiled. “When you’re cool, Wilson, the sun never stops shining.”

Satisfied with my attempt at lightening the mood, I sat down next to the dead body. “What’s going on, Wilson? I thought I was making progress this morning, but when I tried to take Cyndi’s soul, nothing happened. I opened the box and struggled to get her mouth open, but zilch. Does she need to be awake? Does she need to say something? What?” I leaned back and tried to figure out what I might have missed, but I couldn’t focus on any one thing. So many thoughts were galloping through my mind. “And another thing. I seem to keep mysteriously beaming, or whatever it’s called, from place to place,” I said. I leaned back and looked up into the cloudless sky.

There was no response. The only sounds present were those echoing through the bustling city streets. That, and the sound of an approaching car.

I looked up the street and caught site of a police cruiser approaching slowly from the left. “Shit,” I said in a low voice.

Before I could get up from the bench, the cop car stopped directly in front of our park bench and the passenger window rolled down.

“Hey, buddy. Wake up. It’s time to move along now.” Wilson didn’t respond. I laughed.

“Hey. I said it’s time go!” the cop yelled from his cruiser. Moments later he got out of the passenger seat and slowly approached the park bench, his hand on his holster.

“What do you think this is? Let’s get a move on before I haul you in.” The cop stopped directly in front of Wilson, leaned down, and shook his lifeless shoulder. “Hey, buddy, are you all right?”

Wilson’s body drooped.

“Hey, hold yourself up now,” the cop said, but it was too late. Wilson’s body continued to slide to the right, nearly rolling off the edge of the bench. The cop touched Wilson’s neck, most likely searching for a pulse.

“Hey, Pete,” he said to his partner still seated behind the wheel of the cruiser. “I think we’ve got a dead one here. His body is cold, and I can’t find a pulse. You better call for a bus. I’ll see if he has an ID.”

The cop began to turn out Wilson’s pockets, starting with his back pockets first, but Wilson didn’t have a billfold. Next he checked the front pockets of Wilson’s trousers, and again he came up empty. Finally he opened up Wilson’s suit jacket and pulled a rosary from the inside pocket. After examining it for a few moments, the cop placed it in Wilson’s shirt pocket.

“He’s got nothin’, Pete. No ID, no wallet. He’s a John Doe,” the cop said as he returned to the cruiser. He leaned into the open door window to converse with his partner.

As he did so, I looked back at Wilson and could see the rosary slightly visible over the edge of his pocket. I knew then it might be more beneficial to me than it would be to the cops or the morgue. I reached over and tried to remove it from his pocket, but it was stuck. It actually felt like it was cemented in place. I looked back at the cop car, and both officers were staring in my direction. I tried again, but the rosary was still firmly in place. I wondered if while the cops looked at Wilson’s body, it somehow prevented me from taking the rosary from his pocket.

I stood up and stepped behind the park bench. As I did so, the cops turned their attention to something on the dash of their cruiser. At that moment, I quickly reached into Wilson’s pocket and pulled the rosary out effortlessly. It’d been quite some time since I’d practiced any form of religion, but I recognized the rosary as a Chaplet of Divine Mercy, just like the one my grandmother had. I slipped it in my pocket and walked away.

“Good-bye, Wilson. I hope you have a peaceful afterlife,” I said as I walked directly in front of the idling car. The cops paid me no attention.

As I crossed the street, I tried to figure out how it was that I could travel in jumps, or whatever it was. I thought back to the sidewalk in front of the park where I had just been, recalling what it was that I was thinking of at the time, and then I vanished once again.

Chapter 5

“Shit!” I said as I appeared on that very same sidewalk near the park entrance. At least the nausea wasn’t accompanying the travel jolt any more.

Once I regained my bearings, I again looked around for the guy who had bumped into me earlier. I knew it was a long shot to find that one person in a city full of millions of active people, but I knew I wasn’t imagining things. Or was I? Did he really bump into me?

Concluding that the guy was long gone by now, I decided to see if I could hone the transport thing a little more. I figured it was controlled somehow by my thoughts. When I traveled to Cyndi’s hospital earlier and then when I was beamed back to where Wilson was, I had been thinking about them individually just before I jumped. Then, just now, I was thinking about being right here in front of the park entrance, and poof.

I wondered… I thought of a new place, somewhere that I hadn’t yet visited by the mystical transportation technique. Then, I vanished.

When I rematerialized, I stood in front of my own apartment. The door was open, but a wide strip of yellow crime scene tape crossed the opening. I ducked under the tape and walked in. Nothing appeared to have been disturbed in the past thirty-plus hours. Cyndi’s heels were still on the kitchen floor, and the dirty dishes still sat in the sink. I moved farther into the apartment and down the hall.

As I approached the bedroom, visions of the previous day came flooding back. I pushed the detestable act from my mind and walked in. The curtains were now drawn, and there was a lab technician analyzing the room. He was taking samples from the bed and nightstand. This must have been the crime scene, I surmised. I wondered if Cyndi had been beaten. I wanted to ask the tech, but I knew he couldn’t see or hear me.

I moved past him and into the bathroom, looking up at the mirror in an attempt to see my own reflection. I could in fact see myself, but only faintly, like I was an apparition. I was transparent, as was everything that was on me. I looked at my business suit and noticed that the lapels were stained with vomit. If I were to change, I wondered, would my new clothes be translucent as well?

I darted from the bathroom and into the closet. I quickly flipped through the stack of hats on the top shelf and grabbed my favorite Yankees ball cap before returning to the mirror. The hat was just as transparent as the rest of me. I took the hat off and it remained transparent, but as soon as I placed it on the vanity, it became solid once again. Curious, I reached over and picked up the hand towel from the counter, and as I did so, it blinked into transparency in the reflection.

“Cool.”

I tossed the hand towel back on the vanity and headed back into the closet. Although nobody could see me, I could see myself, and I didn’t want to walk around wearing barf-stained clothing for the rest of eternity. As I browsed through my clothes, I realized that my choices were rather mundane. I thought of what Wilson had worn when we met and wondered if that was what he had been wearing when he became a soul collector or if it was a style that he’d adopted along the way. Either way, I felt I needed a new look. But until I could arrange some alone time in a menswear store, I’d have to choose something from my own collection.

After nearly twenty minutes of cycling through my entire wardrobe, I picked out a simple black suite with a white shirt. And although wearing ties made me feel staunch and uptight, I donned a thin black tie today, in honor of the multitude of ties that Cyndi had given me over the years. A smile crossed my face as I remembered her gifting me a tie for every year that we’d been together. The smile quickly vanished though as I wondered if all those years were filled with lies.

Once I was redressed, I reentered the bedroom. The crime scene examiner was finished processing the bed and had moved on to the dresser. As I walked past him, I said, “You’re gonna to have a blast once you get to the bath and the closet.” I smiled at my own sarcasm as I walked out into the living room.

Looking around, most likely for the last time, I began to wonder where I would sleep. Would I have a place to live? If I was to live life at an eighth the pace as everyone else, I’d certainly be around for quite some time. Would I even need to sleep? Would I eat?

I shook the many questions from my head and focused on the importance of the now. I needed to finish figuring out how the transportation thing worked. From what I’d gathered, all I had to do was think of a place and envision myself there. To try this out, I thought about one of my favorite vacation spots in the world—Hampton Court in England. I then envisioned myself standing in the middle of the king’s throne room. Within seconds, I was whisked off to the sixteenth-century palace. After walking around for a few moments—unseen by anyone, naturally—I thought about Wilson’s bench and envisioned myself there. Once again I appeared at the lonesome park bench within seconds.

“I think I’ve got this,” I said, but Wilson was no longer on the bench. The area had been cleared and the body most likely was off to the city morgue. Oddly, even though I barely knew the guy, I had a sudden feeling of sadness for the old man. Here he was, a soul collector for what, nearly sixty years? And now he was gone, not missed or mourned by anyone. I wondered who would miss me once I was discovered gone.

Not wanting to go down that depression-riddled rabbit hole, I decided I needed to face the challenges in front of me. I thought about Cyndi’s bedside chair and then I was there.

Chapter 6

Standing next to the bed, looking down at her beaten and bruised flesh, remorse flushed over me once again. I sat in the chair and wove her lifeless hand into my own.

“Where did we go wrong?” I asked. “Was it something I did or didn’t do?”

I caressed her hand, trying to will her to answer my questions. It felt like a wasted effort. I slipped her box from my pocket once again, hoping that I had endured enough of Cyndi’s final day to earn her soul.

I placed the box upon her chest and opened it. Nothing happened. I slid my finger between her lips in a halfhearted attempt to free her soul, but it was no use. Resigned to the fact that I had to finish reliving her day, I swapped the box for the coin from my pocket and placed it in her open palm.

Chapter 6.5

Walking down the busy sidewalk, Cyndi headed toward the foundation. From the moment she had woken up and heard Jack’s thoughtful words, her mind had gradually escaped the dreamlike state that clearly distorted her feelings for Kevin, and masked those that she had for Jack. Deep down, she knew that their fling had run its course, and it wasn’t good for her mental state to continue on with it. No, she had to end it. She knew that if she didn’t do it now, she might begin to develop stronger feelings for him, while pushing Jack further away. Deep down, she loved Jack, always had. But there was just something missing when it came to her feelings for Jack that she couldn’t quite put her finger on. Was that a reason to leave him? After so many happy years? She didn’t know. She was confused.

Walking the fifteen blocks gave her time to reflect on their marriage, as well as what life would be like if she chose Kevin instead. Looking back to when she and Jack first began dating, she remembered having the same irresistible feelings for Jack as she had for Kevin right now. From the very beginning, Jack was her life, her world. Then, things changed.

Sometime after learning of their infertility, they started to drift apart. She had accepted that it was nobody’s fault, but her desire to have children had remained strong. Adoption was brought up numerous times, but nothing ever came of it. It was all just talk. She knew, or she felt she knew, that Jack was scared. Scared of the adoption process and what it might mean to his bottom line. Meaning the exorbitant expense of raising a child who inherently wasn’t their own was emotionally problematic.

Cyndi pushed the thoughts from her mind as she passed through the double entry doors into the Redevelopment Foundation’s headquarters. As she passed the various donation tables set up, her eyes scanned the room for familiar faces, one face in particular. When she found no sign of Kevin, she dropped her purse and sweater off in the locker room before returning to the donation center.

“Oh, good morning, Cyndi,” Stan, the center’s administrator said. “It’s very good of you to come in today.”

“It’s my pleasure, Stan. Where would you like me today?”

“Why don’t you help Beth out at the children’s table. Wednesdays are usually busy with infant clothing donations, and Beth is the only one at that station,” he said.

“Sounds good,” Cyndi said. Before she headed to her assignment though, she asked, “But doesn’t Kevin usually help Beth?”

“Yes, but he’s running an errand for me right now. As soon as he returns, I’ll decide whether to put him in a different station or move you somewhere else.”

Cyndi wasn’t sure if she should be elated or disappointed that Kevin wasn’t there. She had rehearsed in her mind how she would approach him about ending their relationship. Was this really a relationship, she wondered.

After thirty minutes of accepting various children’s items, Cyndi couldn’t wait for Kevin to return, if only to relieve her from this particular station. With each piece of infant clothing that passed through her hands, she was constantly reminded that she might never hold her own child. And with each creak of the entry door, Cyndi’s eyes darted up to see if Kevin was coming in to release her from her misery. As the absolution never came, she tried to focus on something else. With a lull in donation activity, Cyndi closed the lid of a filled box and told Beth that she would take it to the back. Beth nodded and continued to sort through the remaining garments on the table.

The box wasn’t particularly heavy, but with her injured shoulder, any abnormal weight caused discomfort. As she headed into the back room, moving slowly so as not to trip, she lifted the box above her head and slid it to the top of the processing pile.

As she dropped her arms back to her side, she could feel and hear her shoulder pop.

“Oww,” she moaned.

“You know, you should have asked for help with that,” a voice boomed from behind her.

Cyndi turned and smiled at Kevin’s presence. Gently massaging her shoulder, she said, “It’s okay, I can manage.”

“Still hurt?”

“Yeah. A little.”

“What did the doctor say?”

“He said not to lift boxes over my head,” Cyndi giggled.

Kevin smiled, but concern tightened his brow. “Seriously though, are you going to be okay?”

“Yeah, Jack is picking up a refill for my medication. I think another week of those pills should fix me up.”

“Speaking of Jack, has he—”

“No, he still thinks I fell at the park. He has no idea.”

“For what it’s worth, Cyndi, I never meant to hurt you. That Kama Sutra book really puts our bodies into perilous positions. But I have to say, that was the best sex I’ve ever had.”

Chapter 7

I pulled the coin from Cyndi’s hand. Shocked and overwhelmed at what I just witnessed, I stepped away from her bedside.

“Are you serious?” I asked loudly. “Your injury came from having sex with Kevin?”

Cyndi’s unconscious soul did not reply.

As I paced next to her unresponsive body, I finally noticed the nurse attending to the tubes and wires connected to Cyndi’s body.

“I wouldn’t bother, nurse. This woman is a cheating whore, and I’m here to collect her soul,” I said, standing right next to her.

The nurse didn’t react to my voice. She just continued cleaning and adjusting Cyndi’s life support. Moments later, another person walked in and approached the bedside.

“Any status change?” he asked.

“No, Doctor. The patient remains unconscious.”

The doctor flipped open Cyndi’s medical chart and reviewed several pages, starting from the last page forward. “Next of kin?”

“Not that I’m aware of, Doctor. According to the sergeant on duty, her husband can’t be found.”

The doctor nodded as he jotted some notes in her chart.

“What’s the prognosis, Doctor? Do you think she’ll make it?” asked the nurse.

The doctor paused momentarily. I moved closer to be sure I heard every word.

“Unfortunately her fall was quite severe. Aside from the multiple fractures to both of her legs and her right arm, it’s the damage to her brain that will most likely take her life. But there’s no way of knowing at this point. She needs to fight.”

“How far was the fall?” asked the nurse.

The doctor flipped through the chart looking for the information, but it wasn’t present. “I’m not exactly sure, but from what I understand she lived on the twenty-fifth floor and her body was found at the base of the stairwell on the first floor.”

“My God, how could she even survive that kind of fall?”

“Perhaps her guardian angel was looking out for her. Unfortunately that angel can only do so much. The damage is just too severe,” the doctor said making his final notes. “Nurse, see if you can track down any other relatives that can be notified. It would be such a shame if she passed without any family present.”

“Will do, Doctor,” said the nurse before they both walked out of the room.

With the medical staff gone, I stood and stared at Cyndi’s lifeless body. This emotional roller coaster was killing me. I returned to the chair next to her bed, once again taking her hand in mine.

“Well, klutz. It looks like you really fucked things up this time,” I said caressing her skin. “I really should be several levels beyond pissed right now, but for some reason I only have pity for you. Pity for us.”

I wished the dreadful ordeal were over, but I knew it wouldn’t be until I finished what I had come here to do. I slipped the coin back into her hand, clenching my teeth at what I might experience next.

Chapter 7.5

The elevator doors closed, and Cyndi pressed the button for 25.

“Listen, Kevin, I really do appreciate everything you’ve done for me. You’ve been a rock for me for so long, especially when I needed someone the most.”

“But—”

“I think that what we’ve had has been wonderful, but I think it needs to end.”

Before Kevin could reply, the elevator dinged and the doors parted, revealing the twenty-fifth floor corridor. Cyndi stepped out and led the way to her apartment door.

“Then why’d you invite me to your apartment?” Kevin asked.

“Because I wanted to talk to you about this in private. Sure, I could’ve just blown you off at the donation station, but I felt I owed you more than that,” Cyndi said. “Besides, I figured we could have lunch together one last time.”

“So you want to cut everything out, not just the sex?”

“Don’t you think it would be better that way? If we go on being friends, our own animalistic desires might take over.”

“You really are an animal sometimes,” Kevin joked.

Cyndi snickered. “Would you be serious, please?”

“I am. Cyndi, you are the most wonderful woman that I’ve ever been with.”

Cyndi blushed. “That’ll be enough of that, Mister. Do you want a sandwich?”

“Yeah, sure. What do you have?”

Cyndi opened the refrigerator door. “Well, we have turkey. We have roast beef, or we have peanut butter and jelly.”

“What kind of jelly?” Kevin asked, imitating a little boy’s face.

“It’s raspberry, you goof.”

“If that’s the case, then I’ll take the roast beef, please.”

As Cyndi made them both sandwiches, Kevin moved about the living room, looking at the various family pictures of Cyndi and Jack.

“Tell me, why are you really breaking things off with me?” he asked.

“It’s complicated.”

“Uncomplicate it.”

Cyndi slipped off her heels on the kitchen floor before carrying their lunch plates to the table.

“Thank you. This looks delicious.”

Cyndi nodded. “I’ve always imagined having a big family. I thought that family would consist of myself, Jack, and two or three kids. After we found out that we couldn’t have children, I tried my best to reenvision our future together. It was difficult. We’ve talked about other alternatives, but… Then I met you.”

Kevin glanced up at her sorrowful face, winked, and then took another bite of his sandwich.

“You see, you were a distraction.”

“Ouch.”

“A wonderful distraction.” Cyndi smiled. “But recently I’ve discovered that I still love Jack. I do, with all my heart. And I know he loves me. Regardless of the fruitless curveball that has been thrown at us, we’re gonna make it through this.”

Kevin finished his sandwich and placed his plate in the sink.

“And you’re sure?” he asked

“Yes, I’m sure. Despite Jack’s flaws, I truly believe he’s my soul mate,” Cyndi said, wiping tears from her eyes.

“Well, I’m thankful to have been your distraction, even if just for a little while. You are beautiful woman, and all I can say is, it was fun while it lasted.”

Cyndi’s appetite was lost, and she emptied her plate in the garbage.

“Thank you, Kevin. You have no idea how difficult this has been,” she said, her tears flowing rapidly.

“Hey, hey. Come here,” Kevin said pulling her into his arms. “It’ll be all right.”

Cyndi sobbed into Kevin’s shoulder, her body shaking in his arms.

Kevin stroked the back of her hair as her emotions flowed freely. He leaned down and kissed the top of her head.

Cyndi lifted her head and looked into his eyes.

“What do you say? One more romp for old times’ sake?” Kevin asked before kissing her gently on her lips.

Silently, Cyndi led Kevin into the bedroom.

Chapter 8

“Oh, hell no,” I said, pulling the coin from her hand. “I’ve already witnessed that once, I’m not going to relive it again.”

I leaned back and thought about what I’d just witnessed. Part of me wanted to hug and kiss Cyndi for all the love that she had for me, while the other part wanted to sob like a baby at her betrayal. Right after punching Kevin in the face, obviously.

Wondering how exactly I could fast-forward past that unforgettable scene, I fumbled with the coin between my fingers.

“Why me, Wilson? Why was I selected to collect her soul?”

I sensed movement behind me, but when I stood and turned, there was nobody there. I walked to the door and pulled the curtain open. There were two nurses behind the station, but nobody else was around. Figuring I was imagining things, I returned to Cyndi’s bedside and slipped the coin into her hand.

Chapter 8.5

I appeared in the hallway of my apartment building, but I was alone. This should be Cyndi’s personal reflection and not my own. As I stood there trying to figure out what I did differently, I saw a shadowy figure walk out of my apartment door directly toward me. As the shadowy figure got closer, I realized that it was me walking toward … me. I could not make out any discernible characteristics, but I knew it was me. It was as if a camera lens was unfocused on the man walking toward me.

I’d expected the apparition to walk around me, but he stepped through me. My chest tightened and I caught my breath. A sudden chill shot through my body, from the top of my head to the soles of my feet. I turned and watched my blurry apparition press the elevator call button and wait.

As my shadowed self stepped into the elevator, Cyndi’s scream echoed through the hallway. I turned in the direction of my apartment door just as Cyndi blasted through me, giving me the same sensation of chills I had experienced seconds before…

“Oh God!” Cyndi screamed, standing in front of the apartment door. Then she ran as fast as she could to catch the elevator door from closing. Unfortunately she was only seconds shy from stopping Jack long enough to explain what he’d just seen. Tears streamed from her eyes as she watched the elevator readout count backward: 24… 23… 22…

Just then Kevin walked into the hallway, barefoot and only wearing his trousers.

“Hey, are you okay? You didn’t say anything when you ran out of the apartment,” Kevin said.

“Get out! Just leave. You’ve made of mess of everything,” yelled Cyndi.

Without waiting for another word from Kevin, Cyndi ran around the corner and burst into the stairwell. She hoped that the elevator would stop at least a few floors on its way down, that she might be able to get downstairs before Jack.

The stairwell was brightly illuminated, light reflecting off the stark white walls. The stairs were hard concrete with a worn steel guardrail at the center. Cyndi leaned over and could see all the way down to the first level. She was relieved to see that nobody else was in the stairwell to impede her race to the bottom.

She took the steps two at a time, moving slowly at first, establishing a rhythm in her stride. After passing the twentieth floor, she felt confident enough to increase her speed to three steps at a time. The breeze formed by her speed began to tug at the tails of her bathrobe. She ignored the fluttering, and remained focused on getting to the bottom before Jack.

At the eighteenth floor, she grabbed the railing tight and swung her body around, throwing herself farther down the stairs. But her robe caught on the end of the handrail, launching her over the edge of the metal guardrail.

The echoes of Cyndi’s scream went unheard as she fell through the center of the stairwell. She lashed out multiple times to catch a handhold along the way down, but as her plummeting body picked up speed, each grasp of her hand launched her in the opposite direction, knocking her legs and body against the numerous guardrails all the way down.

Around the fifth floor, her calf slapped hard against the guardrail, slowing her speed down greatly, but snapping her leg bone at the same time. She screamed in pain. Moments later, her naked body slammed onto the floor at the base of the stairwell, the edge of her jaw driving into the bottom stair tread.

Chapter 9

Breathless, I opened my eyes, which were blurry with tears. I was back in the hospital room, Cyndi at my side. I tried to keep my emotions in check, but I sobbed softly as I held Cyndi’s hand, wishing for the pain to be over. Wishing for it all to be over.

I wiped the tears away and suddenly felt Cyndi squeeze my hand. I blinked my vision clear and gazed into her eyes. She was staring back at me, blinking through tears of her own. She tried to speak, but her jaw would not move.

“Hold on a minute, baby. This might hurt,” I said as I leaned close to her.

I gently parted her lips and looked inside her left cheek. I found where the wires were twisted together, then slowly unfastened them, partially freeing her lower jaw.

“Shh. Don’t try to speak yet. I have to do the other side.”

Tears streaked down the side of her face as she nodded.

Repeating the procedure on her right cheek, I tossed the bloody wire to the side, allowing her jaw to move freely. As I sat on the edge of her bed, her eyes squinted tightly, most likely fighting back the pain.

Cyndi moaned as she opened her mouth as far as she could.

“You don’t have to speak, baby. You don’t have to say anything,” I said, wishing her pain away.

She opened her wet eyes, her stare piercing into mine. “M’m. Sus ssorrry.”

“Cyn, I’ve thought about what you did to me, and I am upset. But I…” I dropped my head down and rested my forehead on the edge of her bed. “I just wish you would have said something. I could have changed. Whatever it was, I would have moved mountains for you. Cyn, I love you, and I… I forgive you.”

Tears flowed freely from my eyes. I was surprised with myself at how quickly I was able to forgive … for something that I had only witnessed just yesterday. I wiped my eyes on the bed linens, then looked into her hopeless gaze. Her eyes were as wet as mine, and I knew the time was imminent.

Moments later, the strength of her stare faded as she stared off into the distance. Her clutch on my hand went flaccid, and her head lolled back into her pillow. A wisp of smoke began to slip past her bruised and battered face.

Wishing I had more time to share some last minute words with her, but I was caught off guard. I quickly pulled her box out of my pocket and opened it in the palm of my hand.

Her soul drifted freely through the air, sliding in and out of my own body before entering the box. As the last bit of smoke entered, the box closed before it vanished. In its place a new box materialized.

I slid the box into my pocket before leaning in and kissing Cyndi. I kissed her forehead and then her nose. Then I kissed her lips for the last time.

Tears rolled off my cheeks and dropped onto her face, streaking across her bruised skin.

“I love you,” I said, and wished to be someplace else. A second later I vanished from her bedside.

Chapter 10

I appeared on the sidewalk in front of Engineers Gate, which led into the park. I looked around and wondered what had brought me to that exact point.

I stood fixed on the sidewalk and pondered. Cyndi had been my soul mate, there was no question. I wondered how I would continue on without her to talk to every day. My heart ached deeply at the loss of her life. The loss of my wife – my partner – my life. It felt like a part of me was ripped from my being, leaving a gaping hole, void of purpose.

Compartmentalizing those thoughts, I rotated slowly, taking in my surroundings in all directions. My eyes fixated on a grand Art Deco church that sat directly across the street. Without a second thought, I crossed over and entered through one of the double entry doors. According to a small sign on the wall, the doors led into a vestibule under the west gallery. Beyond, three arches led into the nave. I stepped through the arches and into the voluminous chamber. Aisles were situated between internal buttresses that rose with arches to near-full height. I somehow knew that I was in the right place.

Slowly, I walked up the center aisle to the front of the nave. To my relief, the church was practically empty. I needed solitude right then. Or was it something else that I desired? Solitude—the act of being alone—was not quite the same as no one being able to see me. If I was in a crowd, I was not alone. Lonely, perhaps, but not truly alone. It’s a fine distinction.

I pulled the rosary beads from my shirt pocket and held them in my hand as I kneeled in the first pew. I bowed my head and attempted to pray. My only problem: I had no idea how to pray.

The last time I had been to church was with my grandmother when I was six or seven. Although my father was Catholic, my mother was something completely different. I honestly cannot remember what her religious preference was. All I could remember was her constant disagreement with my grandmother about how I should be raised. I think my mother kept me out of church just to spite my grandmother. Thinking back to their bitter feud that lasted until death, I think it worked.

I closed my eyes and tried to think of the words to say. Nothing remotely religious come to mind. I shook my head.

“Well, Wilson. I think I’ve done it. I’ve collected her soul,” I said as I opened my eyes and focused on the crucifix directly in front of me.

“I have to say, this is all pretty eye-opening. I only wish I could have met you before I took all those pills. I wish I would’ve known what I was throwing away,” I said as I absentmindedly rubbed the beads between my fingers.

“Wilson, I don’t know the right words to say, but I’d like to pray for you and your soul. I wish you a pleasant afterlife, if that’s what you call it.”

Despite my best intentions, I could not stop thinking about Cyndi. Seeing her fall so horrifically made my own soul ache. She didn’t deserve to suffer such pain and agony.

“And if it isn’t too much trouble, could you look out for my wife’s soul coming your way? Despite her indiscretions, I think—no, I know—she has a good soul and deserves only the best. Please, Wilson, do what you can to ease her pain.”

Leaning forward off my haunches, I sat on the wooden bench and continued to stare at the crucifix. As I slipped Wilson’s rosary beads back into my pocket, I pulled out the new box that replaced Cyndi’s. With my mind in such a haze, I only fumbled with the box, not focusing on the name for the next soul.

“So who’s the next victim?” came a voice from behind me.

I nearly jumped out of my skin. I turned to see a man. The very man that had bumped into me earlier. “You. You can talk to me?”

“That I can. And you can talk to me. It’s funny how conversation work,” he said as he moved into my row.

“But, I tried to find you after you—”

“I know. I wasn’t expecting you to bump into me. I was only supposed to observe your first official collection,” he said as he looked around the church.

“So you know what I am?” I asked.

“Of course. I’m one as well. Hell, I trained most of the collectors in the last century.”

I scratched my temple. “But you don’t look that old.”

“Thanks! I need to hear that every fifty years or so. I’m Hauser.”

“Hauser? Wilson mentioned you.”

“Did he? I hope it was all good things,” Hauser said, smiling.

“He said that you were wise well beyond your years, or something to that effect.”

“Well, I’m not sure about that,” Hauser said, blushing modestly.

We sat in silence for a few moments. Hauser continued to look around the church while I was trying to calm my mind. I had a million questions but didn’t want to blurt them all out at once.

“Did you find this place all on your own?” asked Hauser.

“Well, I… sort of felt like it would do after what I just went through. I needed someplace to say a few words.”

Hauser nodded as he turned to look at me. “I think it’s peculiar that you chose this church over all the other churches in the city.”

I shrugged. “It’s not that out of the ordinary. I popped onto the sidewalk just across the street. I just happened to notice it sitting here is all. What makes that peculiar?”

“The Church of Heavenly Rest has a history, you know.”

“I’m sure it does. It’s just another church to me,” I said, trying not to sound too insensitive.

“Oh, it’s not just an ordinary church. Cyndi never mentioned it to you?”

An explosion of knowledge burst inside my head. “Right. The Redevelopment Foundation. That’s here?”

Hauser nodded. “Yep. It’s out back.”

“I had no idea. Cyndi would talk about this place a lot, but I’ve never been here.”

“The aberrant nature of this location doesn’t stop there either,” Hauser smiled.

“How so?”

“You see, Cyndi was also baptized here. Many years before the two of you met. You sure she never mentioned this place?”

I was flabbergasted. “No, not a word. We really didn’t discuss religion much. We agreed to believe in each other,” I said, thinking about that decision all those years ago. “Maybe that was a mistake.”

“Ah, that’s water under the bridge now. Don’t beat yourself up about it.”

Silence came over us once again. I wished I could heed Hauser’s advice, but my mind continued to fumble through what I’d just learned. After several minutes of thought, I spoke.

“So, you could only observe? How much were you around?” I asked, thinking back through the day, and my fumbling about with the transport jump thing.

Hauser’s eyes shifted away from me and then back quickly. “I, uh… was in and out a number of times, just staying in the shadows as best I could.”

I nodded and tried to envision just where he could have been at in each of the situations where I thought I felt someone’s presence.

“Were you there when Wilson passed?” I asked, remembering getting hit on the back while sitting on the bench.

“Unfortunately, I just missed Wilson’s departure. I would have loved to see the ol’ chap once more before he gave up the ghost,” Hauser said. “No, I first showed up just shortly after.”

“Uh huh. I thought so. That was you that smacked the air into my lungs.”

Hauser smiled. “Yep. You caught me. Considering you immediate history with trying to end your life, I didn’t need you giving it all a second try right after Wilson gave you his soul.”

“What? I wasn’t trying to kill myself. I was just… checking something,” I said, slightly embarrassed for my personal experimentation of life after death. “I wanted to see if I needed to breathe. You know… After I died and all. If you hadn’t smacked me right then, you would have seen me take a breath just seconds later.”

“Heh. Sorry ‘bout that, then. I just didn’t want you to get any idea’s is all.”

“Trust me, Hauser. I wish I could go back and undo all that I did in that café. Suicide was not the solution, and now everything I knew or had is lost.”

Hauser bobbed his head as he studied the crucifix in front of us.

We sat in uncomfortable silence for several more minutes before I spoke again.

“And you couldn’t have helped me out with the collection. Just observe?”

“Oh, I could have helped. Would have, too, if you couldn’t pick things up on your own. I just wanted to see what you were made of.” Hauser whistled quietly. “Let me tell you, you move to the front of the class, bub. What lousy luck for you to have to go through what you just did. Your own wife? If there was a bar that served our kind, I’d buy you a drink.”

“Thanks, I guess.”

“Don’t mention it. So, who’s up next? Have you looked?”

“What? Oh yeah.” I flipped the box around until the name was readable.

“It’s Abigail Whitaker,” I said, looking at Hauser.

He nodded his head knowingly but remained silent.

“What? Are you not telling me something? Do you recognize the name?” I asked.

“As a matter of fact, I do. I was actually hoping that would be the name that popped up for you next.”