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.
I noticed because the genius that was holding me up noticed first that I was stuck to his hands. He tried to hand me off to one of the other geniuses but then they were both stuck
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.

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