The Last Goodbye

Old friends reunite in a cemetery.

The evening sun hung low, bleeding orange across the rows of weathered headstones. Ethan walked slowly along the gravel path, the crunch beneath his boots the only sound besides the rustle of dry leaves. He carried a small bouquet of chrysanthemums, Grandpa’s favorite cradled carefully in his hand.

He found the grave near an old oak tree. The stone was still clean, the carved letters sharp: Henry Caldwell, 1938–2025. Ethan knelt, brushing away a stray leaf.

“Nice flowers,” a voice said behind him.

He turned. Standing a few feet away was Daniel Whitaker, his childhood best friend, grinning like no time had passed. “Dan? I haven’t seen you in...what...ten years?”

“Guess so,” Daniel said, shaking his hand firmly. “Heard about your grandpa. Thought I’d keep you company.”

They settled into an easy rhythm, reminiscing about fishing trips, late-night pranks, and summers that seemed endless. Ethan felt a warmth he hadn’t known he’d missed.

The light dimmed, shadows stretching long between the stones. A chill crept in. Daniel leaned against the oak, his expression unreadable.

“Do you believe in ghosts?” he asked quietly.

Ethan chuckled. “Not really. Why?”

Daniel’s smile thinned. “Because some of us are easier to believe in than others.” His voice seemed...farther away.

Ethan blinked. Daniel’s edges blurred in the fading light, the gray of his coat blending with the dusk.

“I never got to say goodbye,” Daniel whispered, his form dissolving like smoke.

Ethan’s breath caught. “Dan...?”

The space beneath the oak was empty.

He turned, searching the rows, and his eyes fell on a weathered headstone three markers away: Daniel Whitaker, 1995–2015.

The chrysanthemums slipped from his fingers. The wind through the oak tree sounded almost like Daniel's laughter; distant, familiar, and gone.

Word Count: 287
Prompt: Write a story that includes the line: “Do you believe in ghosts?”
Written for: "Daily Flash Fiction Challenge"