Even the dead pay rent!
I've been able to see dead people my whole life. No big deal—until I met a ghost in need of a roommate. Things were great until we started selling "exorcisms" to make the rent.
Actually, until I singed a rental agreement without reading it.
Do people even read those?
Turns out ghosts make surprisingly good business partners, especially the kind willing to shove a French fry up a stranger's nose for a hundred bucks. That's how I ended up rooming with a dead guy named Orson, his skeleton squatter, and moving into a trailer park wedged somewhere between two parallel realities. Thing were actually starting to look up, until I actually looked up and finally noticed what had been going on around me for years.
Being invisible your whole life sounds bad. Turns out being seen is a lot more dangerous—especially when what's noticing you isn't exactly human. This is my story.
It's true.
All of it.
