Romance is DeadRomance is DeadRomance is DeadRomance is Dead
Paige AndersonPaige AndersonPaige AndersonPaige Anderson
What a crappy way to die
, Tom thought, as the rabid sheep ripped though historso. Whenever he thought of ways he wanted to go, death by sheep was never onthe list. Old age in a peaceful slumber, fine. Jumping out of a plane, fine. Struck bylightning, fine. Gnawed to death by an herbivore? Embarrassing, pure and simple.He tried to beat the animal, strangle it maybe, but he was no match for a madsheep.When he would tell the story later, he would always say that his death was abit of a letdown. He hadn’t seen a bright light, there had been no tunnel, and hislate grandmother must have been busy that day, because she hadn’t stopped by tousher him into the afterlife.
It was like going to sleep
, thought Tom. He had closedhis eyes, his thinking slowed, and at some point Tom knew he must have died, buthe could never quite pinpoint when. Probably after he’d thought
I wish I had done this differently. Man, I hope that’s not my last thought, it’s so cliché.
When he woke up, the first thing Tom saw was a perky girl holding aclipboard in one hand and a pen in the other. She looked like she was in her latetwenties. Her hair was an attempt at a natural blonde, but the roots still peekedthrough. She wore a pink blouse and a public relations smile.“Name?” Her voice was a chirp.“Tom, Tom Hale. Wait, who are you? Where am I?”