Day 3

Start writing a story that…

Step 1: starts with this dialogue: Are you alright?

Step 2: add this word: imaginary

Step 3: add this word: ghost
---------------------------------------------------------------

"Are you alright?"

Shayna heard the voice from above her as she felt the shadow fall across her face.

"Ma'am? Are you okay?"

Someone patted her shoulder. Shayna pulled open her eyes and saw that she was on the ground. She tried to sit up, but a sharp pain shot from her wrist, and her head felt heavy. Wasn't she supposed to be jogging?

"What happened?" she asked the voice above her.

"I think you passed out," the voice replied.

Shayna tilted her head to the sound and saw a girl, maybe 22, leaning over her. The girl looked concerned, and Shayna was herself feeling confused about the situation. Maybe she just needed to close her eyes and this strange event, this imaginary situation, would dissipate in a dream, and she would wake up in her bed where everything made sense. She closed her eyes. She imagined the scene.

"Do you need me to call someone? Should I call 911?"

The girl's voice cut through the air and jammed into Shayna's thoughts. There was no escaping it. She opened her eyes and forced herself to sit up.

"So are you okay?"

The girl was getting annoying. Shayna nodded.

"Yes," Shayna said. "Thanks for your help. I've got it now."

She propped herself up on her knees and stood up slowly. She still felt dizzy and the sharp pain in her wrist now stretched up her arm and into her brain.

"I think you need a doctor," the girl said.

"I'm fine."

The girl looked uncertain, but she started to step away. Shayna waved and turned her back to the girl. She then looked around to get her bearings and discovered she wasn't far from home. She began limping in the direction of her house, taking stock of each ache and pain as she moved.

When she finally reached her driveway, Ron's car was already there. The kids were running around the yard, making her wonder how long she'd been lying on the sidewalk just down the street. She had planned to be back 30 minutes before they were due to be dropped off.

Ron stood by the car, talking on his cell. He wore a blazer and tan slacks, the picture of a suburban dad. She realized she hadn't seen her ex-husband in person in over a month, at least not outside and fully put together. In the rush of taking the kids back and forth, they usually waited in their cars while the kids ran out and into the house. So she was always either in the house or the car. They communicated by email and text. What need was there to meet and talk?

Ron saw her approaching and raised his finger to indicate he was finishing up a call. It was as if Shayna was seeing a ghost of the past, a version of Ron from before things went dark between them. He had lost weight, and his clothes seemed new. Even his face, now cleared of stubble, looked younger.