Amanda shuffled from kitchen to bedroom where she spent several minutes cursing before her return to the sitting room. "This is an absolute nightmare." She stood in a fresh top and size 10 jeans that hung from hips that jutted too far, too angular for any normal girl.
"Hold on." Jasfoup tapped the last of the numbers into his Bloodberry and returned to the living room. "There! That should keep the accounts department off your back for a while. They won't even discover you're dead until they've finished dealing with all the e-mails from Nicaraguan millionaire refugees" He dropped the phone into his pocket. "What's a nightmare? The whole dying-and-coming-back-to-possess-your-own-body thing? It could be worse, you know. You could be possessing some old bloke who spent the last ten years in front of the telly. At least you're young and fit."
"That too," she conceded. "But I meant the stains on the settee."
"Ah." Jasfoup nodded. "Always the first concern of a new zombie, the state of their settee. I'm sure it'll brush out."
"Do you think so?"
Jasfoup eyed the pile of blood, vomit and faeces, all drying in the heat of the flat to the point where a crust had formed and the edges had shrunk to leave a tidal mark. "Of course," he said. "Nothing to worry your head off about."
"That's a relief." Amanda walked into the bathroom. It was a distinct improvement on the shuffle but the way she lifted one foot and threw it forwards by tilting her body to the side was reminiscent of a wind-up quacking duck. It didn't help that she crashed into the door frame on the way, leaving a smear of skin and a gash across her arm big enough to need stitches. Not that it bled at all.
Jasfoup eyed the laptop on the desk through the open door "It's a good job you're a single woman."
"No-one to question your status changing."
"Status change? Should I update my facebook then?"
"What? From 'single' to 'zombie'? At least you can stop declining all the bloke who want you to eat them. It might even cut down on internet porn. At the very least you could begin your own urban legend. 'The Internet Man-Eater'. You could write a book if you got your fingers to work properly."
"Very funny, I don't think."
"You won't for much longer if you don't start pumping blood into your brain." Jasfoup peered through the gap between door and hinges. "What are you doing in there, anyway?"
"Putting on my makeup. I've got to look my best, haven't I?"
"That depends. Is pale skin in or out this season?" He rubbed at the line of skin she'd left on the doorframe. "You might want to swap to a long sleeved blouse, too."