He grieved and suffered from insomnia until one night on TV in his room, he saw a stupid ad for a psychic that specialized in exorcising spirits.
“Are your loved ones refusing to move on? Are they just hanging around so that you are unable to move past your grief? Then call me. I can help you help them get to the next level!”
Will found a pen and hastily wrote down the number, then put it next to his bed. The commotion was even worse tonight. The cocktail party was in full swing. He looked at his watch. Eleven-thirty. Well, it was Saturday night after all. Speaking of which – Will kept a bottle of bourbon in the bathroom under the sink. He might as well have a few. The guests never left anything behind, so he did not have to clean up after them. He did not want to think about that possibility of leftover wine glasses and dirty highballs crossing over from another dimension.
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