The first thing I saw was the birthday cake I’d made to celebrate Constantine, my dead friend. I couldn’t even stomach looking at it or eat it, so I lifted it out of its glass case and tossed it in the trash without a single bite having been taken out of it. I paced the house, allowing the alcohol to wear off. I was unsure of what exactly to do. I wanted to go to the police and demand the film crew leave me alone, but I knew exactly what they’d say: The film crew was bringing in money for the town.
