One day, I died.

One day, I died.

I was still dead the next day and the week after that.

Why would it change I guess. After all that car isnt just going to reverse back out of me and unbreak my bones

or unsever my abdominal artery. I have all the time in the world to come to terms with being a ghost. In ghost terms, I'm a newborn.

"Hey bro, could you give me some tips on how to stick around? I heard from the Tibetans that our constructs eventually dissolve after 45 days or so." What a jackass, I thought. Th

at's ridiculous. I'm a construct, and I've been alive for 47 days at this point. I rolled my eyes, obviously the Tibetans are wrong. I also happen to be quite sticky.

to me, and now to each other too. As other so-called geniuses tried to help, inevitably adding themselves to this cursed conga-line of stuckness, I had a realisation:

This is what they meant by string theory! It all connects on a quantum level! If I could unstick the quarks maybe there was chance and this game of Twister would be finished!

I got my tweezers and separated each quark, but doing that just made hadrons. Damn it, I should've gotten a physics degree instead of dropping out in grade 9! Go to college, folks.