He’d been waiting for the elevator doors to open. “Hazel Grace,” he said, “you look ravishing.”
“I know, right?” I heard a shuffling in a dark corner of the room.
Isaac stood behind a little wooden lectern, clinging to it. “You want to sit?” I asked him.
“No, I’m about to eulogize. You’re late.” “You’re... I’m... what?” Gus gestured for me to sit.
I pulled a chair into the center of the circle with him as he spun the chair to face Isaac.
“I want to attend my funeral,” Gus said. “By the way, will you speak at my funeral?”
“Um, of course, yeah,” I said, letting my head fall onto his shoulder.
I reached across his back and hugged both him and the wheelchair. He winced. I let go.
“Awesome,” he said. “I’m hopeful I’ll get to attend as a ghost, but just to make sure,”
“I thought I’d—well, not to put you on the spot, but I just this afternoon thought I could arrange a prefuneral,”
“and I figured since I’m in reasonably good spirits, there’s no time like the present.”
“How did you even get in here?” I asked him. “Would you believe they leave the door open all night?” Gus asked.
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