The wailing of sirens pierced the evening air, a haunting melody that announced the arrival of the Lakeview University Police Department. Their vehicles screeched to a halt, the flashing lights casting an eerie glow across the grim scene.

The officers moved with practiced efficiency, their faces etched with a mix of solemnity and resignation as they cordoned off the area, a grim task they had performed far too many times before. This little functional department was one of the reasons why this university stood out among its peers, a direct result of the university's high concentration of wealthy students, heirs to vast fortunes, and children of influential figures. The administration, acutely aware of the potential risks and liabilities associated with such a privileged student body, had taken the unprecedented step of establishing an internal law enforcement unit.

Amidst the ongoing chaos, Kel stood motionless, his ghostly form invisible to the living world around him.

It was strange to think it. He was there, and yet he wasn't.

He watched in mute horror as his own lifeless body lay crumpled on the pavement, a twisted painting of shattered dreams and unfulfilled potential. The realization of his own mortality hit him like a sledgehammer, his mind reeling with the incomprehensible truth that he was no longer a part of this ...world.

The arrival of the ambulance only served to amplify the surreal nature of the moment. The paramedics rushed to the scene, their movements urgent and precise as they assessed the situation with clinical detachment.

As they lifted his corpse onto a stretcher, Kel's mind reeled, struggling to comprehend the incomprehensible. He was dead, and yet here he stood, a spectral witness to his own demise. The shock of it all threatened to overwhelm him, a tidal wave of emotion crashing against the shores of his consciousness. He reached out, desperate to touch the men who were so callously handling his mortal remains, to feel the warmth of human contact one last time. But his ghostly fingers passed through them, as insubstantial as the breeze that ruffled the hair of the crying onlookers.

The sound of muffled sobs and anguished cries drew his attention to the gathered crowd of students and onlookers. Their faces were contorted with grief and disbelief, tears streaming down their cheeks as they struggled to come to terms with the tragedy that had unfolded before their eyes. Kel's heart ached for them, the weight of their sorrow adding to the crushing burden of his own emotions.

As he watched the tears stream down the students' faces, Kel was struck by the cruel irony of it all. He had always been an observer, watching life unfold from the sidelines, never quite fully engaging with the world around him. And now, in death, he was condemned to do the same, a helpless spectator to the grief and anguish of those he had left behind.

He drifted among them, a specter of sorrow and regret, desperate to offer comfort and solace. But his ghostly touch passed through them, leaving no trace of his presence, no hint of the love and compassion he yearned to convey. The realization of his own helplessness, his inability to connect with those he cared for, was a bitter pill to swallow.

As the paramedics zipped his body into a black bag, the finality of the moment struck Kel like a physical blow. The sight of his own corpse being shrouded in darkness was a stark reminder of the fragility of life.

It was a fate worse than death itself, to be so close and yet so far from the living, to be able to see and hear and feel, but never to touch or be touched in return. And as the ambulance doors slammed shut, bearing his body away to some cold and sterile morgue, Kel felt the weight of eternity pressing down upon him, a ghost forever, trapped in a world he could never truly inhabit again.

The onlookers huddled together, their voices hushed and trembling as they tried to make sense of the tragedy that had just unfolded before their eyes.

"I can't believe it," whispered a girl with tear-stained cheeks. "He was with us this morning, laughing and joking with us, and now..."

"It's crazy," murmured another, his gaze fixed on the spot where Kel's body had lain just moments before. "One minute he was alive, and the next..."

"I keep expecting him to sit up and tell us it was all just a prank," said a third, her voice cracking with emotion. "But he's really gone, isn't he?"

Their words hung in the air, a shared confession of grief and disbelief. They clung to each other, seeking solace in their collective sorrow, as if by huddling together they could somehow ward off the cold reality of death.

But their reverie was short-lived, as a police officer approached, his face a mask of professional stoicism. He singled out one of the onlookers, a young man with haunted eyes, wearing a bandana, and gestured for him to step forward.

"Excuse me, young man," the officer said, his voice calm and measured. "I'm going to need to ask you a few questions about what happened here today."

The young man nodded, his movements sluggish and dazed. "Fo sho," he mumbled, his gaze still fixed on the spot where Kel had fallen.

"Can you tell me your name and your relationship to the deceased?" the officer asked, pen poised over his notebook.

"The name's Tunde --Toons for short," the young man replied, his voice barely above a whisper. "Kelz and I shared a few classes, you gitmi? Alaye grew up with me in the same neighborhood, went to the same school together... I can't believe alaye's gone, man ...shitfuck."

The officer nodded, his expression softening almost imperceptibly. "I'm sorry for your loss," he said, the words rote but not unkind. "Can you tell me what happened, in your own words?"

And so Toons began to speak and gesticulate with his hands, haltingly at first, then with growing urgency, as if by giving voice to his memories he could somehow keep Kel alive, if only for a moment longer. He narrated all he saw, and as he spoke, the officer listened, his pen scratching across the page, a silent witness to the unfolding of a life cut tragically short.

The police officer, who had been questioning Toons with a sort of detached professionalism, suddenly narrowed his eyes, his expression hardening into one of suspicion.

"Tell me, Too--Tunde," he said, his voice low and accusatory, "are you under the influence of marijuana right now?"

Toon's eyes widened, his face a mask of shock and disbelief. "W-what?" he stammered, his voice cracking with emotion. "W-wagwan with that kind talk? Why wo--"

But the officer was already in motion, his hands patting down Toon's pockets with a sort of grim efficiency. And then, with a triumphant flourish, he pulled out a small baggie of weed, holding it up to the light like a trophy.

"Well, well, well," he said, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "What do we have here?"

The other students, who had been watching the exchange with a sort of morbid fascination, suddenly scattered like leaves in the wind, their faces pale with fear and self-preservation. Toons was left alone, the scapegoat for a tragedy that had nothing to do with him, his fate sealed by a twist of cruel irony.

And Kel, watching from the sidelines, couldn't help but feel a flicker of amusement amidst the overwhelming grief and confusion that consumed him. The absurdity of watching the class clown, Toon, get busted for possession of marijuana mere moments after his own untimely demise was the kind of dark, twisted irony that could only be found in the most macabre of comedies. It was a fleeting moment of levity in an otherwise bleak and unforgiving landscape, a reminder that even in the face of the most profound tragedy, the universe still had a sick sense of humor. But as quickly as the moment came, it passed, and Kel's thoughts quickly raced to Funi, his girlfriend, the love of his life. He pictured her face, the way her eyes crinkled when she laughed, the way her hair smelled of vanilla and sunshine. He thought of all the moments they had shared, the dreams they had whispered to each other in the dark, the future they had planned together.

His mind also drifted to thoughts of his best friend, Anthony. They had been inseparable since high school, their bond more akin to that of brothers than mere friends. In a world where Kel had often felt alone and adrift, Anthony had been his anchor, his constant companion through the tempestuous seas of life. He was the family Kel had never had, the one person who truly understood him, who accepted him unconditionally. And now, as Kel stood on the precipice of the great unknown, a ghost tethered to the mortal plane by the thinnest of threads, the thought of leaving Funi and Anthony behind, of never again sharing a laugh or a secret or a dream, was a pain that even death could not dull. His heart ached with a pain that was beyond words, beyond comprehension.

He had lost everything, in the blink of an eye, and now he was forced to watch as the world moved on without him, as the people he loved were left to pick up the pieces of his shattered life.

Does a ghost hurt? Because he fucking was.

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