No. 387 Last Bus

I had been dead for forty minutes when the last bus passed in front of me. There were three passengers sitting in the car: an old lady with her eyes closed, a middle-aged man talking to himself, and a faceless shadow huddled in the last row. The driver turned his head and said to me with an ageless face: "Sit back." My body refused to let me walk back to my seat. Then I received a WeChat message from Lao Liu: "Didn't you say you had left? Why didn't the surveillance camera see you leaving the building?" The last message: "Song Chen, you have been in a coma for six months." I looked up and the young woman next to me smiled at me: "Welcome aboard. You finally remembered that you are a dead person." The car door opened. It's 1987 outside. The day I was born.