He wonders if Clint will recognize his voice, but Clint doesn’t seem to.
“Oh, that’s okay.”
“Please, I insist.”
Clint resigns and takes a seat, laying out his newspaper on the table. “Thank you very much.”
Rolando feels weird, like he’s crossing a line, but what he really wants to do is help. “This might be weird . . . My name is Rolando Rubio. I worked at Death-Cast. Last night.”
Clint looks up with tears in his eyes. “Rolando. Rolando! Have a seat, have a seat.”
Rolando is relieved that his appearance is welcomed. He sits. “I’m sorry to pop up like this. I didn’t like the idea of you being alone on your End Day, and I wanted to check in on you. You had mentioned this café and—”
“Good memory,” Clint says.
Rolando wonders how bad Clint’s memory is that remembering something from less than twelve hours ago is impressive. “Is there anything I can do for you? Do you need help?”
“Is this part of some Death-Cast package?”
“No, I actually . . .” Rolando decides against telling Clint he quit the company. “This is all me.”
“That’s very sweet of you. There’s one thing I’d like.”
“What’s that?”
“Join me for my last breakfast.”
Rolando does so, hoping that if he’s fortunate to live as long as Clint, and unfortunate enough to be as alone, that someone shows him this very same kindness on his End Day.
Valentino
10:09 a.m.
If I had to spend my End Day somewhere, I’m glad it’s in such a walkable city. How much time would have been spent driving back in Phoenix, my eyes on the road and missing all the beauty around me?
I bought a Fitbit in March, having wanted one since Christmas. It’s this watch that basically tracks how many steps you take. It was amazing to have on my morning runs and usually inspired me to up my daily goals. Of course I didn’t realize I forgot my Fitbit in my bathroom back home until Scarlett dropped me off at the airport, but she assured me that she’d pack it for me. Now there’s a chance she won’t even arrive with her luggage. It’s a small thing, but it would’ve been cool to see how many steps it took for me to get from my apartment to Times Square last night, or even around Manhattan this morning as my personal tour guide shows me the city.
It gets me thinking.
“I have an idea for an invention. You can make it.”
“Do I get to take all the credit?” Orion asks.
“Only if you want me to haunt you.”
“That’s not the scary threat you think it is. I’d like having you around.”
“Okay, but you can’t change your mind later when I’m tapping your shoulder every time you slouch.”
“Yeah, you’re right, I’d be calling an exorcist so damn fast.”
There’s something comforting about becoming a ghost. Especially because I don’t think Orion would have me exorcised. I could watch over Scarlett too. Maybe even make sure my parents don’t get a good night’s sleep ever again.
“So what’s this invention, Casper?” Orion asks.
“Basically, it’s a tracker that shows a Decker’s journey on their End Day. Friends and family can retrace your footsteps and feel closer to you if they couldn’t be with you.”
Orion aims the camera and takes my picture.