Page 78 of Ghoul Me, Maybe
It’s never steady.
Never quiet.
But it’sthere.
That alone feels like a miracle.
“You good?” I ask him once, half-asleep.
He brushes my hair back. “I don’t think I know what that word means anymore.”
“Me either.”
We fall asleep like that.
Two people who were ghosts in different ways.
Now building something new.
We’re sitting on the hood of my truck, parked behind a roadside diner that smells like fry oil, nostalgia, and questionable choices.
The neon sign flickers—Bay Bites—like it can’t decide if it’s still open. The only other car in the lot has a cracked window and a surfboard strapped to the top. A moth slams into the light overhead and dies dramatically.
Elias stares at the burger in his hands like it’s a live grenade.
“You’re telling me,” he says, slowly, “this... is meat. And cheese. Inside bread.”
“Withpickles,” I add. “It’s a rite of passage.”
He lifts the top bun suspiciously. “Why is it shiny?”
“It’s buttered. That’sgoodshiny.”
“I don’t trust it.”
“You fought sea monsters,” I remind him. “This is just a sandwich.”
He takes a bite.
Chews.
Then his eyes go wide.
“Oh myGod.”
“Told you.”
He keeps chewing, completely transfixed.
“This is illegal,” he mutters. “Itshouldbe illegal.”
I laugh.
Hard.
Like, full-on can’t-breathe, bent-over-wheezing kind of laugh.
It bubbles out of me, ridiculous and bright, echoing across the empty parking lot. I clutch my side, tears streaming down my cheeks, and Elias just stares at me—mouth full of cheeseburger, looking dumbfounded and kind of insulted.
