Fashionably Late

As you arrive to the party, all dressed in your fancy attire, you take a moment to breath before heading up the pathway to the front door. You take one last look at your watch before opening the door; perfect, fashionably late, as intended. You take one last deep breath before walking in. The first person you see is the host, Kyle, he seems to be looking through you with a concerned gaze. He walks to close the door that you are still holding open, and you notice something different, eerie. You move out of his way just in time, or else he would have run into you for sure. He walks back to one of his guests, a man you’ve only met once or twice before. You find it odd that he didn’t greet you but think nothing of it as you’ve known him since you were children. You decide to make your way to the kitchen to find a snack and something to drink. In the kitchen two other childhood friends are gossiping about Kyle’s love life, or lack thereof. You say hello, but they ignore you; it’s odd but you assume they’re just a little mad because you’re always late to these events. You head to the fridge to grab a beer and the girls become speechless. You ask them what’s wrong, but they keep ignoring you and stare in your direction. You give up trying to speak to them, so you head for the main room, but before you do so you grab an appetizer from the table. One of girls lets out a yelp, startling you, causing you to drop the food. You decide not to bother getting another one and go see Kyle. As you approach him, he’s facing away from you, so you tap his shoulder to announce yourself. He doesn’t turn around, so you speak his name. He continues to ignore you. You start getting annoyed at this because even though you’ve always been late everyone accepts you for it. They’ve never gone this far to make you feel bad about it. You tell everyone in the main room to eat dirt and head into the library. In the library you head for the secret stash of booze that’s hidden behind a wall of fake book covers. You take a glass and pour yourself a drink. You then proceed to look over the actual books, judging the titles and the covers. You tell yourself that your friends are just trying to bother you and you shouldn’t let them. You spot a book that your mother used to read to you when you were younger; before she passed away. You pick it up to gloss over, you’re reminded of the good times you’ve had before you became a late comer to these parties. Your mother is the reason you started arriving “fashionably” late. She was always late, but the one day she was early, that’s the day she died. She was crossing the street, excited to be home early for once, but a reckless driver hit her, not even noticing he did it. You were across the street waiting for her to reach you, but she never did. Ever since then you’ve viewed being on time as dangerous, something you would never do. You shed a tear, and at that moment Kyle comes through the door asking if anyone is in here. You drop the book, and he just sighs and mumbles to himself that the people at these parties have no respect for his property. He starts talking about you now, stating how even if you’re always late, you’re never this late, and it’s getting weird. You stare at him dumbfounded. Okay, this has gone too far. You go to put your hand on his shoulder, but it passes through him. Shocked, you try again and still, it goes through his body. You try again, and again, and again to no avail. With each try you grow more and more confused. What is happening to you? Why is this happening? As Kyle is about to leave, his phone rings. He’s speechless. He walks out of the library, with you on his heels. He turns off the background music and as the other guests murmur annoyed phrases, he clears his throat and struggles to tell everyone that you are dead. You died on the way to the party; got hit by a car. You stare at him as he breaks down crying, then you look at the other guests who are going through an array of emotions as they try to process the news. You are dead. A ghost.