In those last moments before the plane went down, I wasn't freaking out or anything. Nope, it was all about regret.Five years of silence between me and my parents, and today was supposed to fix that. But nope, the universe didn't approve. So, yeah, on Christmas Eve, my life just... stopped.Next thing I knew, my soul was drifting all over the place before finally landing at the front door of the house I hadn't seen in five years.The door was decked out with a Christmas wreath, and the windows had those cheesy snowflake decals.I reached out to push the door open, but—plot twist—my hand went right through it. Right. Because I was dead.That plane crash? Yeah, none of us made it. All 140 passengers. Gone.I floated inside, slowly. The house was full of Christmas cheer, with string lights all over the walls.Inside, my parents and Peggy Twain—aka my sister-in-law—were baking cookies. My younger brother, Chad Saun, was at the far end, glued to his phone and totally zoned into some
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