*****

Some welcome, Gordon, the tulpa thought wryly some weeks later. A quickhandshake, then a shove out the door . . . real welcoming! You could have at least given me some idea of what happens to tuplas when they die instead of telling me that was “something else you'll have to find out for yourself.” I'm still not even clear if I can die, and your assurances that you “expect” I will “sooner or later” were particularly less than helpful.

The tulpa considered the workmanship on the gravestone and thought, At least you were willing to help me with this. “What do you think?” the tulpa asked the young woman tracing her finger along the inscription on the stone.

“'To my old life,'” she read aloud. She shook her head and chuckled. “I think it's morbid.”

The tulpa looked crestfallen, and seeing this, she laughed fondly, doing pleasant things to her face. She really is the cutest girl in the office, the tulpa thought.

“Morbid . . . but appropriate,” she amended. “But if you're expecting me to ask why, you're going to be disappointed . . . because I already know.”

“You do?”

“Yes,” she said with a smile. “You're not the same person you once were, everyone in the office has commented on it by now.”

“They have?”

“Oh, don't give me that look!” she chastised the tulpa playfully, then added another one of her wonderful laughs. “Everyone means that in a good way. I mean, it's not like you were ever a bad guy before, but now you're so much . . .” Her smile became flirtatious. “Better.”

The tulpa relaxed, and rather than risking laughter that might come across as forced and nervous, decided to look sheepish instead. “Thanks . . . I mean I know it seems strange, but I wanted a place I could come to and think about not only how I got to where I am now, but also a place to remind me how . . . precious a gift life can be.”

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