Part 2The Best Ghost Money Could Buy

Ethan picked up the white roses on the coffee table, carefully arranged them in a vase, and spritzed them with water. The droplets clung to the velvety petals.

He bought flowers constantly after I died.

Not for me, of course. It was because the florist was gorgeous.

He used the excuse of buying flowers to flirt with her.

It must have felt cursed because his first date with the florist was the day I died.

So, no matter how hard the florist tried, Ethan never touched her.

Ethan admired the roses and casually instructed me:

"Your spectral presence is cold. Stay close to the vase. The low temperature will help keep them fresh."

You know how to be practical, I’ll give you that.

I got mad, and the temperature in the room dropped sharply.

Ethan looked smug. He wore that "I'm the king" expression.

"Want a new dress? I can burn one for you."

He was obscenely rich.

That's why I'm the best-dressed ghost in the afterlife.

My dead friends are constantly jealous of my designer gowns.

Ethan buys the clothes based on my spectral instructions.

He comes home late. He sets the charcoal pit under the old oak tree and meticulously burns the clothes and some cash for me.

The black smoke billows out, stinging Ethan's eyes.

A passerby shouts angrily: "Who the hell is burning trash here?"

Ethan coughs: "Sorry, sir! I'm just sending some things to my ex. I'll be quick!"

An old lady walks up and pulls the man away: "Leave him alone. The poor guy's girlfriend was murdered a couple of years ago. It was brutal. He's gone a little crazy. I often see him talking to thin air."

"Wow, how sad."

"I know. No one wants to date him anymore."

My hands clenched. Ethan remained calm, ignoring everything.

I felt a pang of guilt. Ethan was usually a magnet for attention.

"Ethan, let's go."

He lifted an eyelid: "Almost done. Did you receive it?"

"Yup. The underworld post office signed for it."

He smiled: "Good."