Of Lifeless Packaging

She laughs at him when she sees him, because here they are, it's the afterlife, and he doesn't look all too disgruntled about it, now, does he?

(A fragile smile greets her, but she's just as ineffable as ever, and haggles it out to a crooked grin. Still just the same as he always was, and that's the way she likes him.)

She laughs because he's old, and she's young, and the crown of his head is hard as gnarled stone against the shell of her ear, half-hug endearments, and it's an odd sort of happiness, isn't it, old friend?