Ghost Story

Harry was in the coma for eleven months, and when he woke he could see ghosts. They were everywhere, and more, they were constantly fucking. Floating through the air, in pairs, in groups, totally debauched—every imaginable kink was represented, and there were no boundaries. Why would there be? They were already dead, they deserved to have some fun. Harry was horrified. The most difficult part was explaining that we all saw them, too, and that we had learned to look the other way. For us, it was no big deal. We’d had eleven months to get used to it.