No more Little Miss Nice Ghost
When I died, I expected clouds, harps, maybe a tastefully celestial wardrobe. Instead, I'm a ghost in suburban Toronto discovering the Afterlife is basically a failing corporation with terrible management, endless paperwork, and an HR department that treats existence like someone else's problem.
My only coworker in the business of dying is Kelly-a standoffish, unemployed grim reaper whose main qualifications appear to be changing hair colours on a whim and avoiding responsibility. Not exactly the partner I imagined for navigating death, but when the system starts falling apart, we're somehow the closest thing the Afterlife has to a task force.
Now I'm stuck asking the big questions: Is death really all it's cracked up to be? What's the point of living if the Afterlife doesn't even offer PTO? And how did I end up falling for the world's most reluctant reaper while trying to survive eternity?