Lake Lewisia #468

[scrubjayspeaks]

The detective and the hitchhiker and the ghost, with expressions of horror, resignation, and annoyance respectively, all looked down into the depths of the huge backpack, down into the old, cloth-wrapped glass jar, down into the two shovels-worth of grave dirt, to the collection of little bone shards and loose teeth and crumbles of headstone granite. Thus far, the detective hadn't shown any sign of being able to see or hear the ghost, though she had been keeping up a steady stream of commentary since the patrol car had rolled up on them on the road shoulder. So, without a great deal of optimism about the detective's sympathy for gravedirt-bound spirits with a dream of traveling or their capacity to give consent for a little light corpse desecration, the hitchhiker said, "I can explain."

---

LL#468