One condition. You have to admit, out loud, that your pleather pants looked stupid.
The ones that made that horrific fwip-fwip sound when you walked?
She plugs it in. The laptop screen flickers. A folder opens: .
(The ghosts freeze. Flower pops out of the floorboards.)
You’ve been doing the ghost equivalent of hyperventilating for three hours. Did you accidentally leave your Venmo logged in on Sam’s laptop again?
