Chapter 15
Harris worked out in his room the next night. The sweat dripping off his shoulders and down his back, he focused on what his new body would look like. If he had an aneurism, which could happen any second, and wound up in a coffin, then he at least wanted his corpse to look good.
And who would care or come?
Mitchell, Tucker, Brittany. Maybe Dr. Brighton would come, shake his head, and leave. The male nurse might show up, maybe he could even meet his soul mate there. That would explain why Harris couldn’t see it. Maybe he couldn’t see anything related to his own death. There’d be a few cousins and old classmates who lived close enough. His f*******: page would turn into a memorial and people would fight on it about how he should have gotten that surgery while there was time. Or
