death

The ghostly hand on my shoulder

It started off with a smell. An odor. A sense of deja vu. I recognized that smell but couldn’t quite place it. I looked around walking up to the meters. It was a basement afterall and there could be a gas leak or other odd event. It is California, after all. Methane leaks are all the rage here. Have you been following what’s occuring in the San Fernando valley. How do officials think they can get away with not giving community residents all the information they need about their pipes, water, and overall environment? We are after all in a media renaissance of sorts. Well, the media only cares about louadmouths who will increase their viewership and advertising dollars. But, I digress.

It was an odd smell. Oddly familiar. A changing smell. It was as if the smell was going through a metamorphosis.

I couldn’t pinpoint from where the smell was coming. The pilot light was still on in the water heater. Perhaps, I was imagining stuff. Or it very well could just be the smells of the street. It was San Francisco, after all.

I laced up and climbed onto the treadmill. I placed my earbuds in my ear and listened to Cake By The Ocean. That really got my sweating. I was flying.

Then, out of the corner of my eye, I saw something move to the right of me. It was like a flash of light. As a matter of fact, it seemed like a scene from the television show Flash, where he seems himself out run himself. Surely, my pumped up adrenaline was messing with my head.

Then, it happened again.

I saw the flash of movement whiz past my right side.

I turned and there it was. I saw a hand reaching out towards me to tap my shoulder. I felt a shift in the air. It was real. This hand was familiar. It had tried before to reach out to me. The smell. I now knew what it was.

“Mom?”

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