Where the hell is Token Street?
One might think I would be my usual depressed self. Usually, my shoulders would be hunched over. My frown would be so deep that other ghosts would be concerned. This, however, is not the case.
I walk with reason down the street that Jess would walk down after we would part ways. Her to her precious library and me to my precious home. Now, I go down her path while she’s gone.
The sky is a pinkish blue and the clouds are fluffy bits of cotton. The streets are lined with trees and houses with neat yards. It reminds me of my own neighborhood. The only difference is that the population of this suburb is mostly dead.
The ghosts are as busy as the living. They are in and out of the houses and the stores. When I walk down the middle of the street, they stop to stare before they resume their useless tasks. My hair bounces and my damp white dress clings to my body as I move on.
“Did she just die?” A chubby cheeked ghost child asks someone older.
I lock my jaw and continue on ignoring that blatant insult. I have to get out of here. I slept in a freaking alley last night. A freaking alley. They already closed up my house, those savage real estate people. They didn’t leave a single place untouched and not a single window open. To say I’m in a foul mood would be in an understatement.
My head is up high trying to find any sign of this Token Street. I grimace and realize it might be time to ask for directions. I purse my lips and search for a sane one. There is a woman with a child in her hand. She looks fine until I come closer. Her eyes end up looking glazed and cloudy. Her child is even worse as his eyes look like they’ve been covered with white cupcake frosting.
The woman smiles at me with her clean teeth. “Are you lost, hun?”
“A little,” I say, debating whether not to indulge the conversation “Have you heard of Token Street?”
“Yes, of course! Poor people on that street. It caught fire a long while ago,”
She dusts off jacket with a hand with missing fingers. “Isn’t war terrible? Inciting people to do things like this?”
“The war?”
“Why the war? Don’t you know that the Germans invaded France last month?”
I’ve made a mistake.
I back up. “Yeah, that is very unfortunate. I’ve got to get going,”
“Where are you going? Can you watch my baby? I need to go into the salon just for a second,” She says, handing me her child.
The child is unresponsive as she puts his hand in mine. If I had a heart, it would be beating out of my chest. She’s becoming relentless. I have to get out of this somehow. My words from this point on must be calculated. I must be careful not to include any trigger words.
“I have to go to my destination,” I tell her.
“Please! Just for a second,” she says, her eyes clearing up for a second. She stumbles in place and shakes her head as if she’s trying to get rid of the fog. The fog wins and she’s subdued. She shudders running her hands through her wavy hair. “Are you lost, hun?”
“No, I’m just on my way. Here is this little man,” I say, handing her back her kid.
She smiles gratefully. She takes back her child’s hand and looks at the case with a heavy head. Poor kid, he probably wants to move on. His mother clearly doesn’t. Hopefully, the ghost child will get away and go to the sea. I can’t go crazy with trying to help everyone like before. The rules of the ghost world are harsh and that’s the way it is. It’s just the way it is.