Phelp

hing. My body, a vessel of pain and regret, was gone. Dissipated in a wave

ing, painting the scene in urgent flashes of red and blue. My earthly shell, or what remained of it, was a charred silhouette amidst the debris, barely recognizable. A strange calm washed over me.

cold Chicago air. Minutes, hours, days, tim

dlights. His face was set, a mask of professional detachment. He was with Bilal, his partner, the

otting in his notepad. "Incen

uin. My spirit yearned for recognition, for a flicker of sor

es," he stated, his voice flat, devoid of emotion. "No

ecognize the outline of the woman he had claimed to love. The one who was carrying

act. The ambulance lights pulsed, a mournful rhythm. I slipped into Arthur'

heard from Erykah at all, man? She

t for not dropping everything to coddle Ivy." He let out a humorless laugh. "Honestly, Bilal, it's exh

ed through me, sharper than any knife. Silent treatment? Trust? Is that what you

he just had a bad day,

before she went radio silent. Something about regretting loving me and never wanting to see me ag

the screen. "You know what? I'm gonna call her.

nt pleas were useless. He dialed. It rang. And rang. Then, a

er simmering. "She blocked me. She actually blocked me." He looked up, his eyes blazing with a cold fur

rough his contacts, found my name, and hit 'Blo

t the "cryptic message" with an actual cry for help. His world revolved around his p

re, crumbled to dust. My spirit felt a profound sense of numbness, a hollow

e, dictating notes as the ME began the grim task. My heart, or what was left of it in my ghostly form, twisted. He was dissecting me, the woman he had ju