by Becca Wild Alan Pope “Look, I’m sorry to dig up your remains,” Gwen said to the corpse. “I didn’t mean to. I was drunk, and I realize now I should have left all this grass that has grown over your grave continue to grow and prosper. I’ve made an error. I’m sorry.” Then she pulled the old “Look, I’m not perfect” line. And then she threw in “Neither are you” to the rotting corpse. Then there was a space in the night in which the two of them existed together, on the same plan