Ghost.

The television was blaring, the lottery numbers were called out, “56-4-67-26-47-68-45, let us take a look to see who won 8 million dollars!” The dingy bar had poor lighting and the television behind the bar was tinny. I ask the barkeep for one more shot of tequila, but he said he couldn’t understand what I was saying and escorted me to the street. Right outside the bar was a four-way intersection and busy at that. I looked down at my ring finger where my wedding ring use to be, “that bitch ruined my life.” I thought to myself. I stunk of booze and vomit and didn’t have any place to go. A happy couple walked past me on the street and all I could think about was how I wanted to murder both of them. Then I had another thought, “I’ll just murder myself.” I walked up to the curb and could feel the vibrations of the cars and trucks rush past me. “Just do it you pussy...” I thought to myself. I took a deep breath and saw a mac truck coming. “This is the one,” I whispered drunkenly. The lights were blinding as I closed my eyes and leaned forward with my left foot. As the lights got brighter I saw ice where my other foot was landing, but I couldn’t keep balance and I slipped. The last thing I heard was a horn blaring and breaks screeching. Then everything went black.

I don’t believe in ghosts, but that is just the kind of luck I had because his body, which was my body, was thrown into the air. His coat flapped up and down while his keys and wallet were rocketed even higher. The money in the wallet floated back down to earth along with a ratty lottery ticket. This lottery ticket floated in the air for a while and finally came to rest on top of the hat of the officer reporting at the scene of the accident. The officer tilted his head down to jot down some notes and the lottery ticket fell onto his notepad.

As the forensic team drew an outline around what was left of my body, the officer read the lottery ticket and whispered the numbers to himself, “56-4-67-26-47-68-45...”