I began my first mission on Earth by gliding through the skyline like a shimmering, violet-tinted mist. I had stripped away the heavy luxury of my physical body, but my aura? Oh, darling, it was still radiating that "I'm better than you" royalty. In the dead of night, when the city's secrets are whispered over cheap wine, I drifted through the window of a high-rise apartment.
Inside, huddled in the dim light of three scented candles that smelled like "desperation and vanilla," were three high school girls. Their hands were trembling as they touched the planchette of a wooden Ouija board.
They were breathless with excitement. "Great Spirit! If you are here, give us a sign! Does Marcus—Chloe's trashy ex—still love her? Or is he actually serious about that blonde influencer?" they whispered.
I hovered behind them, a translucent, purplish shadow that was definitely more stylish than any ghost they'd ever seen. I rolled my eyes so hard my spectral skull rattled.
