Psychosomatic

Phil tossed another can of beer into the nearest trashcan. He used the wrong arm to grab his phone from the side table. The phone dropped from his ghostly fingers, but he managed to snatch it with the other hand after scrambling off the wood floor.
He checked the date and time. Sighed heavily, rubbed his eyes with blue. Sighed again and growled along with it.
Phil’s head bonked against the floor as he tried to fall back to sleep.
But he couldn’t sleep anymore.
Phil stretched his back and spoke to the heavens.
“Alright, back to it.”
Lightning.

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