Nash floated.
For a second, he thought it was bliss.
Then he realized he was wearing nothing but a white towel and had an erection so stubborn it stuck up like a flagpole. And he was in a coffin.
"What?! Oh no no no no no no..."
He sat up.
Clouds swirled overhead. Incense wafted. A slow line of ghostly figures walked past his open casket, some with their heads bowed, others shaking them in shame. He had never seen them before, but he recognized a few by instinct.
His ancestors.
"He died... like that?" "Absolutely disgraceful." "Even the tomb couldn't calm that thing down. Freaking horse."
Nash tried to pull the towel over his crotch. It failed.
From a distance, a woman screamed.
"You IDIOT!"
Zayela stood in black, mascara running, clutching a stack of debt papers. Her eyes were murder.
