It's later that night when it happens.

It's a typical night,posty. I'm in the downstairs den in my pj's,lounging in the basement of the Bounty.

Everyone is upstairs,obviously.

So I'm just spending hours of watching Deadpool and The Lego Movie.

The evening has pretty much been one gnarly corpse after another.

I'm trying to immunize myself to the sight of the dead. To think of us,of all the living creatures under the sun,as meat. Sour milk. Green goo. Whatever. Something that,inevitably,will rot. I don't know why,but it helps me to see death as inescapable and unavoidable and certain.

Yeah,it's messed up,I realize. But you do what you have to do. And so it happens that at exactly 10:11,just as I am finishing up Bones,episode 17,I smell my best friend's cologne.

Strong.

SMELL ME, I remember it's titled like that. HERE I COME.

I don't have time to process this. If I could stop and process it, I would rationalize that the bottle of cologne is much closet to where I'm sitting (in the basement,only approximately 15 feet from the basement bathroom) than it was to Cole when he smelled it upstairs last night. It would be easy to explain away.

But I don't have time to process. Because it right then I glance away from the television for a spilt second,to check the time on my phone,and when I look up....

There he is.

Standing by the door to upstairs leading to the hallway to our rooms in his favorite green jacket and jeans and his dark green shirt.

Lloyd.

I don't think.

I yelp and throw my phone at him.

He vanishes before it reaches him,like a bolt of lightning flashing across the sky,his image there and then gone. My phone strikes the wall hard with a sickening crunch.

"Jayline?" calls my brother,Jay from upstairs,his voice muffled by the layers of wood and carpet between us. "What was that?"

I can't catch my breath.

Monty.

"Alex?" Jay calls again.

"I'm fine," I call. "Everything's fine...." I make myself get up and go over and collect my phone. My hands are shaking as I try to asess the damage,and not just because I saw Lloyd. Because I've broken my phone.

Because there's something on my phone I don't ever want to lose. That I can't losr. I can't.

I push the power button and stare at the cracked black screen.

My own fractured reflection stares back. I look completely freaked out.

The screen flashes.

It goes on. Reboots.

I close my eyes for a few seconds. Please,I think. Please.

Miraculously,aside from the cracked screen,the phone seems fine. I scroll through the messages,back and back,through the hundreds of concerned texts that have piled up over the past six weeks, the so sorry to hears and I'm praying for you and your friends and familys and let us know ifs,to a text dated December 20.

The night Lloyd died.

It's still there.

My vision blurs so I can't see the words,but I don't need to see them anymore. I don't know why,really,the idea of losing this text put me in such a panic. I will never lose this text. It will be stamped in my brain for the rest of my life.

I let myself breathe. It takes me two or three good deep breaths before I can even attempt to get my head around what just happened.

Lloyd.

Monty. The word is like a heartbeat.

I stare at the spot where he was standing. "Monty." I whisper.

But the room is empty.

My best friend's not here.