Flash Fiction / Dialogue-Only
“I can’t just leave the car.”
“Why not?”
“I am attached to it. Tied to it, basically.”
“Can’t you get over this attachment?”
“That’s not how ghosts work, dummy.”
“Why not?”
“Because that’s how it is.”
“And who decreed it? God?”
“Well, yes.”
“Did he say it, do you have proof of him saying so?”
“No, but it is one of those things that is obvious, one of those things that just is, you know? Eyes on the road, bucko.”
“No, I don’t know, I am not a ghost, you see.”
“Oh shush it, that’s just how it is, I am attached to the car and can’t leave it.”
“But yesterday you were attached to the house and couldn’t leave it, but you left it today.”
“Yes, I was attached to the house. Today, I am attached to the car.”
“You see how your arguments fall apart, right? Why can’t you just be attached to the wind then, or the earth, and be able to go anywhere?
“Don’t know, that’s just how it is.”
“And why is it that you can slide through doors and yet don’t fall through the seat of the car?”
“Never thought of it, eyes on the road, eyes on the road.”
“Speaking of which, why don’t you fall through earth? What reaction force is holding you back?”
“Some ghostly one, I guess. Pay attention, there’s a truck coming.”
“Not a good argument.”
“Eyes on the road!”
“And why is it-”
“TRUCK, TRUCK, GOD DAMMIT, TRUC-”