I felt dizzy. That was the first thing I noticed as I pulled my mind from the darkness. Next was the floor beneath my back, then the air being fanned into my face, quickly followed by the warmth of bodies surrounding me. I opened my eyes to see people all around me, eyes trained on me through the glaring lights.

"What's happening. . ?" I muttered.

"Stay calm, it's alright. You were just a little shocked is all. We had a few on our team who weren't much better," said one of the forensics ladies.

Then it all came back to me. The sound, the blood, the police, the phone call. The eyes. Oh god the eyes.

"I. . . I think I'm okay. I still need to pack. . ." I trailed off, sitting up with the help of several people

"Jack got everything packed for you, just relax," said Sturgis. He leaned over and helped me stand.

"Thank you." I turned, accepting a glass of water being offered by Sturgis' partner and downing it quickly. I put it in the sink, keeping my back turned to Kaylyn's room. The door was closed now, but there was still blood on the door and laminate in the hallway.

I walked out, ducking under the vibrant yellow tape stretched across the door and down the stairs to the lobby where Jack sat next to the elevator with his fingers combing through his hair. "Hey," I said upon seeing him.

"Hey. I'm glad you're okay. I wanted to help it's just. . . I couldn't be in there anymore. I saw too. I wish I hadn't," he said as he wiped his nose on his hairy arm.

"I get it. Obviously." I sat down next to him, holding my head in my hands. "I don't know where to go from here. I should probably call and tell my boss I'm coming in for a while."

"You can wait until tomorrow. Let's go out to eat before we go to the hotel. I just realized we still haven't eaten yet," Jack said, trailing off into a forced chuckle marred by tears.

"I guess so. Where do you want to go?" I didn't really want to eat, but I was still hungry, my gut periodically groaning and gurgling.

"I don't know. Breakfast food? I'm sure somewhere has it, even this time of day." It was almost five at this point, most places wouldn't serve breakfast this late.

"I think Susan's Diner does all day breakfast if that's what you want. I think someone I worked with one time said they liked it," I offered. "I don't know where the hotel is, so you might wanna look for something closer."

"Susan's sounds fine. I can put it into GPS. Are you going to drive yourself or do you wanna ride with me again?" he asked. He seemed like either option was fine with him, but he was a deceptive man when it came to his emotions.

"I can drive, but do you want me to? I don't know if we need some time apart or more time together to get through this," I said, trying to find the middle ground.

"I think we should stick together. I know I have a habit of shutting people out when I'm having a hard time. It never helps and it gets really bad for me. I can already tell you get bitter when things get hard. Staying together will help," he said, raising his puffy eyes to the ceiling and causing his pupils to dilate with the new exposure to light.

"Alright."

We said nothing for a long moment, sitting in the lobby and watching people wait for the elevator. Our bags were packed and waiting for us to put them in the car on the other side of the elevator doors, Jack's obvious from the multitude of art supplies sticking out from half closed zippers, paint coloring the cheap fabric of the suitcase with depictions of holy wars between angels and demons. Each battle was sectioned off like the artwork the Norse made but with the realism of modern art, each feather clearly hand painted, making a white, black, and red storm from afar. Mine was a simple black with a cheap bag of my tools from my room on top. I didn't need those, or at least I didn't expect to need my home tools, but I appreciated that he grabbed them. It gave me confidence that he had grabbed everything I could possibly need, though of course it wasn't guaranteed.

"We should go," Jack finally said after we watched the elevator come and go for the third time. I nodded, making my way to my feet with the help of the cream colored wall. Jack hadn't moved, so I held out a hand to him. "Sorry, just thinking." He reached a hand out and grasped my wrist. For an artist he was a large man and he excised regularly, so I had to lean back and pull with all my weight to get him to his feet. Once there he pulled me back into balance on my feet. "Thanks."

"Any time," I said, smiling weakly. I wasn't sure if thinking was a good thing to do or not, I had essentially just zoned out for however long we had sat there, not a single thought going through my mind.

We walked out, each of us dragging luggage behind us out to Jack's car. As we approached Jack pressed his key fob to unlock the car, the trunk opening with a light pop! We shoved our luggage in, laying both suitcases flat and shoving the water bottles he kept in his trunk to the side to make room, laying the tool bag to the side with wires still sticking out of the top. I pushed the trunk closed while Jack made his way to the drivers side before I walked over to the passenger side and slid in.

We pulled out of the parking lot at about five fifteen, we'd sat by the elevator for about twenty minutes. One of the cops by his car waved goodbye to us with a smile as we drove past. Traffic wasn't bad, we'd hit the freeway just before rush hour and made our way to Susan's. I held Jack's phone and told him the directions while we otherwise drove in silence.

This story is posted elsewhere by the author. Help them out by reading the authentic version.

Susan's was a run down establishment, clean but in obvious need of repairs and some electrical work. The large neon blue sign flickered and several of the letters weren't lit. The sun was just going down, marking the oncoming close of one of the longest day's of my life to this point. We pulled into the parking lot and parked in one of the many open spots before letting the engine die. The place was open until ten, so we had plenty of time to sit down and eat, although it looked like the kind of place that was either the best place in the world or it should have been shut down years ago.

We walked in, and there were very few living patrons, one old man and his grandson it looked like and one guy in tie-die that looked like he was just coming down from a high.

To me though, the place was hopping. One very pretty ghost in sixties work clothes from some long dead diner in, if I had to guess, Chicago stood behind the counter with a single glass that looked like it was originally used to house milkshakes was slid along the living counter between her hands as if through a puddle of viscous liquid like syrup.

Items that died and passed on a soul were rare, and I had no idea what caused an item to have a soul or how to get one to pass on. The clothing one wore when they died almost always passes on, but it changes and it can't be removed. The clothing always fits just right, and it always gets softer and lighter. Or that's how some of the ghosts I talked to during middle school lunch had put it.

She seemed to be serving a number of ghosts, like they were playing diner with kids, exchanging imaginary money for imaginary food. The muted colors and misty forms of the ghosts made for a sort of sad afterlife from an outside perspective. Souls so desperate to eat again they would rather go to a diner and imagine it than anything else they could do.

The muted colors and misty trails the ghosts left made it easy to tell the living from the dead apart, so I could have just walked right through them and to a table, but instead I did my best to avoid everyone, living or dead. "Hey, we don't get many newcomers around here. I'm Clarissa, my great aunt is Susan and she entrusted this bar to me. It's something special to me, even if new people don't come about very often," said the living lady behind the bar right next to the pretty ghost. Two more ghosts ran out of the kitchen in the back right through the door with a puff of mist pretending to carry dishes.

That was a bit of an odd greeting, but I didn't mind. It was one of the least weird things I had experienced today. "Thank you for having us," Jack said. I was focused on dodging around dead people, which earned me some odd looks from everyone, dead or alive, so I didn't say anything and almost ran into Jack. The dead didn't mind being walked through, they barely noticed it and it was just the way of life for them, but it was a respect thing and I was always taught respect, especially to your elders. Even when talking disrespectfully, I had been taught to keep my more subtle respectful strategies always active, like trying not to bump into anyone whether they would feel it or not.

"Just raise your hand when your ready for me sweetheart, menu's are on the tables. Say, is your friend okay, he looks like he's tryin' to summon the rain," Clarissa said. She was a bigger woman, but she moved smoothly and quickly across the countertop while cleaning it, moving through the ghost behind the counter who was chatting with a dead patron and didn't even pause in her conversation.

"I'm okay, it's just been a long day, that's all," I said. I turned to Jack and said "This place is special. There are a ton of ghosts here. Let's sit over by these two, they look foreign and they have room at their table." Of course, Jack saw nothing, just sighing and motioning for me to lead the way. I walked over to a table near the middle of the diner and sat down, pointing at the other open seat at the table. Jack sat down and took a menu, reaching through one of the ghosts who seemed like they were from Korea, although they spoke perfect English and were dressed like German soldiers from far before world war one. Many ghosts picked up other languages, it was just odd that they seemed to be wearing the same uniform, and had been brothers for all I knew, and they were speaking English.

"Sorry for my friend. He can't see or hear either of you and he frankly doesn't believe that you exist," I told the ghost Jack had stuck his hand through.

He stopped with an imaginary fork full of some unnamed meal halfway to his mouth. He stared at me, and I just looked back. He dropped the fork back down, moving his head from side to side. "I think he can see us, hyeong."

"No way, the living can't see us, we've tested it, remember?" asked the ghost I guessed was named Hyeong.

"No, I can see you Hyeong. I've got to say, your guys English is really good," I said.

"Holy shit he can hear us too," said one of the other patrons from across the bar. I heard a muted thump as the woman behind the counter dropped her glass, the object sinking slightly into the floor before coming to a stop.

"What are you guys doing here? I wouldn't have expected this old diner to be the place everyone gathered after they died," I asked.

"Well, this is a story bar. We come in, order fake food, and share stories of our lives, our deaths, the world, anything, and just pretend like we're sharing a meal with someone new. They aren't very common, but all of them require you to speak a certain language. Eavesdropping is part of the culture, that's why our English is so good. Also, hyeong isn't a name, it's Korean for older brother," he explained.

"Conrad, stop talking to the dead people," Jack said.

"Sorry. I came with someone who can't see you like I can. It's been a rough day, our friend got murdered today. This is the first thing either of us has had a chance to eat today, and it's pretty vital for us to eat," I explained to the ghosts. "I'll just talk with him from now on I could use more time to process."

"Talk to the ghosts if you want to, just order something. I'll listen to music or something." Jack was shutting himself off from me, the very thing he didn't want to happen.

"Jack, come on. I'm sorry, I'm here now, present and accounted for."

"Yeah. I just sort of thought it wouldn't be an issue, but it looks like it's getting worse, and with Kaylyn. . . I just don't want to make anything worse, you know. You're talking nothing as far as I can tell. It can't be healthy."

"Oh, he really doesn't think we're here," said one of the Korean ghosts. I shot him a look, but before I could say anything to Jack he butted in again.

"That, right there. You just glared at a fucking chair, Conrad," said Jack.

"It's just this place, they're saying it's a story bar. They gather here to tell stories, and I didn't know that, I'm sorry," I said.

"It's fine. Can you at least include me in your fantasies so I don't feel like a third wheel to a damned chair?" I wasn't sure where he was going, first he didn't want to be dragged down, now he wanted to be included? Whatever.

"Yeah. This is Jack, and who are you two?" I asked, turning to the ghosts.

"We forgot, so we call ourselves Gin and Tonic, respectively." It wasn't uncommon for a ghost to forget their name. Some were more broken up over it than others.

"They call themselves Gin and Tonic. Kind of funny," I said aloud for Jacks sake.

"If it's not too fresh, we'd like to hear the story of your friend, is she around?" asked one of the ghosts.

"You probably wont believe me, but first I'll let Jack talk if he wants to. It might help," I said as I turned to Jack. "Do you want to tell them the story about. . . today?"

"Sure, why not. It all started with a crash," Jack begun.