You'd Look Better as a Ghost

by Joanna Wallace

“Claire’s the kind of person who goes to planning application meetings for fun.”

“I’m fucking sick of looking at that outfit!” Such a ghastly—and now ghostly—fashion choice. “Blue dungarees over a brown polo neck? Seriously? That’s what you wear to a restaurant? And what the fuck are you wearing on your feet? Are they even shoes? What the fuck is wrong with you?”

Helen asks whether I want anything to eat. A slice of chocolate cake. That’s what I really want. But I’m mindful of the fact that I killed this woman’s sister fairly recently and the cake is ridiculously overpriced. So, I order a shortbread biscuit instead. Feels like the decent thing to do.

“Wow!” I say, which is always a good word to throw in when all other words are missing in action.

I’m not sure whether a fear of God can ever be used as a reliable judge of character.