The Ghost of Us: A Late Crematorium
Language: en
I’ve read countless romance novels about the "regretful ex crawling back," but I never expected to become a character in one. Except, in my story, there was no "crawling back." Only the ashes. Because I was truly dead. I became a ghost, tethered to the man who took me for granted. Seven days after my death, it was as if a delayed wave of grief had finally crushed him. In the home I could never return to, he howled, wept, and shattered into pieces. You ask how I felt? I just stood there, blankly, meticulously savoring every inch of agony on his face. I listened earnestly to his…