Ambler rather enjoyed being dead.
Sure, he couldn't eat, sleep ( truth be told, he'd often found doing so distracting), but he could still read. He wasn't able to pick them up, of course, not techincally. With some effort, however, he could look at a book and simply see every single word.
Every verb, every semi-colon -- every space and indent -- they all seemed more real to him, almost tangible. Typos, which once irked him slightly, now angered him to no end. In the afterlife -- his small corner of it, anyway -- there seemed to be no lukewarm, either: he either loved a book entirely or despised it completely.
With half of his library now rendered to nothing more than bird cage lining, he found himself following Julie around the apartment. He was glad she'd decided to move in and not simply sell the place, and his books, along with it.
At first, he'd watch her from a distance, standing in this corner or by that window. After a few weeks, he grew bolder...probably from the rising, gnawing loneliness. It began with him joining Julie on the couch as she watched Big Bang Theory; it progressed to him sleeping at the foot of her bed every night.
Always he'd come back to his books, reading and reading, but only when Julie wasn't around. Only when she wasn't eating, talking on the phone, going through the mail, or taking a long, hot shower.
Before he'd died, Ambler barely noticed Julie's countless curves, the way she bit her lip when she really thought about something. Now, like his books, he was aware of everything inch of her, everything she did. There wasn't a single thing he didn't love about her, he realized, but how could he let her know?