By Liv Strom
Ghosting someone isn’t the same when you’re basically dead. He would expect me to haunt his every step, because a knife in the back isn’t easy to forget, but instead, I’m having a ball.
Jumping in puddles without back-splash, watching the neighbor’s kink without shame, flying Superwoman style — who’d want to wake again?
Nevertheless, a thread yanks me back to a beeping hospital bed. He hovers at my side, pretending grief and regret, whetting my appetite for revenge, death and deceit.
I smile with fake amnesia, as if my ghost didn’t see the whole bloody thing. Let the true haunting begin.
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Liv Strom has loved disappearing into made-up worlds since she first learned to read and write, “hoping to give others the same experience.”
And enjoy! This has a delightful twist.
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