A ghost.

PRESENT DAY.

Marco stood near the wall as his eyes rested on his lifeless body lying on the hospital bed, inside a Black leather. He still found it hard to believe that he had ended up here even though he didn’t know how long he had been gone.

But why was there no news reporting his absence yet when he had probably been gone for hours?

He thought out of confusion and ran his hand through his Black thick hair, desperately hoping that this all made sense.

“ Hey guy! It’s here.” He heard someone yell out and turned around to see the same officers walking over to his body.

“ Any missing report yet?.” Sergeant Mark asked curiously, his eyes on his colleague.

“ None with his face on it.” Sergeant Dave responded, looking around the room to take the details in.

Sergeant Mark stepped closer to the body, bringing his right hand up to let down the zip.

“ Could it be a case of robbery?.” He questioned, his eyes resting on the pale dry face.

“ Uh!.” Sergeant Dave exclaimed and looked his way to see the head exposed. “ Come on guy! This shit smells pretty bad, just close it.” He complained, blocking his nostrils with his right fingers.

“ You chicken.” Sergeant Mark teased as he laughed hysterically then swiped the zip up to cover his face.

“ We all don't love offensive smells.” Sergeant Dave responded, his voice slightly pissed then let out a soft cough.

Sergeant Mark laughed for a while, mocking his colleague then stood upright to have a meaningful conversation.

“ How did you ever make it here? You know, that really bothers me. Why choose to be a cop? You could have volunteered to be something else.” He questioned, his eyes resting fully on his colleague.

Marco was curious too. He wanted to know why a cop couldn't handle half of what it came with.

“ This isn't the time to criticize my choice of work but just so you know, my Mama wanted me to be a cop.” Sergeant Dave responded, his voice a bit sad. He had always wanted to own a restaurant, a small yet fancy place where he could showcase his skills.

“ Oh!. Mamas’ never loses a conversation.” Sergeant Mark replied, laughing it off, the guilt he felt for mocking a young man who was only following his mama’s rules, making her happy. He also had his reason for being a cop, his a little more painful.

“ You know that shit.” Sergeant Dave responded then let out a forced smile.

However Marco couldn't relate. He wasn't like them. He would never change his occupation or lifestyle for his ‘Mama’ as they referred to her or anyone else. It as his life after all and only him had the right to decide what went on in it.

Maybe his death now, since he was dead.

He joked in his head and laughed it off.

Maybe he should have tried stand up comedy when he was alive.

He thought.

“This body. I feel like it could be a case of theft, maybe murder. What do you think?.” Sergeant Mark questioned and watched Dave layout a long dry laugh.

“ I think you are being paranoid and definitely overthinking. You probably want some spicy case, something to keep you on your toes.” Sergeant Dave chirped in then stretched his right hand to pat him on the shoulder. “ Try watching a movie, Mark. Everyone does that.” He advised.

“ Haha, so funny.” Sergeant Mark scorned. “ I am being serious. He didn't have an ID on him, no phone, nothing to show that he....you know.” He paused, his eyes on him.

“ No, I don't know.” Sergeant Dave responded, shrugging his shoulders.

“ I mean, who goes out without an ID or a means of communication?.” Sergeant Mark explained further.

“ Everyone does.” Sergeant Dave responded and watched Mark rise his brows. “ Maybe not everyone but almost everyone. I mean we have seen cases of such.” He added, clarifying things.

“ I just feel like this case might be a little bit different.” Sergeant Mark responded confidently. For a very weird absurd reason, he felt it deep down in his guts.

“ Yea. You are also bored of collecting boring homeless bodies right?.” Sergeant Dave asked then cleared his throat. “ Yeah, yeah. What about a drink after this?. It will help clear up your illusion.” He added, trying to be helpful.

“ Maybe you are right. Maybe I do need a drink, something strong. Maybe a beer.” Sergeant Mark responded and ran his hand over his hair.

Maybe he lacked rest. Maybe he explained why he was trying so hard to attach a meaning to nothing.

“ That's the spirit guy.” Sergeant Dave hyped. “ And about this guy, I think we should ask them to dispose of his body with the others since no one is coming to claim him.” He added, wanting to get the case done with before Mark gets too interested in it.

“ Dispose of?.” Sergeant Mark questioned.

“ Hmm hmm.” Sergeant Dave hummed. “ Our cemeteries are filled up and the government refuses to spend a dime on those.” He added then heaved a sigh.

Those. He referred to his body as ‘one of those’.

Marco thought angrily.

Marco stepped closer to Sergeant Dave, their faces and a few inches from one another.

“ You might try saying that to my face, asshole.” Marco cussed, eyeing him angrily.

But there was no response.

Marco exhaled deeply. He was starting to hate being dead. He hated people ignoring him or refusing to reply to him. He missed yelling and swearing in their faces.

He needed some fresh air, somewhere far from them. Far from his body.

He walked out of the room, stepping out of the entrance to the hospital.

What was his next step going to be?.

He wondered, not having an idea since he had never been dead before.

Food!.

Maybe should go get food.

But does he need one? Do ghosts eat?.

He wondered and groaned.

He hated referring to himself as that. He was Marco, the feared billionaire Marco.

How did he end up here?.

He thought and roughed his hair with his right hand.

Grummmm!.

His stomach tightened.

He knew he had to use a toilet, one that wasn't a public one and definitely doesn't belong to an hospital.

He hastened his steps as he walked, his eyes running over the stores, roads, and signboards he passed, running a brief check on them. Most were closed shops and he wasn't sure if he could wait till they opened it.

Finally, he found one. A small food shop.

It looked like it would have a toilet at the back, to him so he went in the moment a young man pushed the door open to walk out. Not bothering to mutter a ‘thank you’, he walked past him.

Soon, he found a door to what looked like a small toilet. He pushed it open and proceeded to step in then stopped.

It stinked!

It reeked of pee and all sort of things. The flies too were something he couldn’t just ignore. Their buzzing noises.

Guess some things just don’t change as a ghost.

He wondered.

He doubted that he could use this place.

But where would he use when most shops were closed?.

He wondered as he clutched onto his stomach which didn't stop making annoying noises.

Guess, as a ghost he still had tastes.

The bus stop!.

It clicked.

He had seen something like that on his way here. Maybe he could use it. Since no one could see him, he knew he could use anywhere but still he had tastes.

Holding onto his butt, he ran out of the shop.