On Grant Line Road, in New Albany Indiana, just South of I-265, there is a Burger King. Just like uncountable Burger Kings scattered all over creation. You either like the food, or you don't. You either like the convenience, or you feel that it's too high a price to pay for what places like that do to local mom and pop restaurants. You certainly don't go there for the atmosphere and the ambience.

At least most people don't go there for those things.

I'm not like most people. And, to me, that Burger King on Grant Line Road is not like most Burger Kings.

To me, that place is haunted.

Not haunted the way Rich O's is, with memories of better times, and a sparkling presence that sits beside me when I feel alone, and a million reminders of what was, and a million more reminders of what might have been.

Nope, not like that at all. That Burger King is haunted by me.

For that Burger King, on Grant Line Road, in New Albany Indiana, just South of I-265, in the third parking spot on the right when you pull in, that's where I died. That's where pieces of my shattered heart fell onto the pavement on that night back in October 2004. That's where my long scream began. That's where the echoes of that scream are the loudest.

When I go there, I always park in that same spot if it's available. It usually is. Like it's waiting for me.

I remember, back in Junior High, walking through the field at Gettysburg during a field trip, and imagining all of those that had perished there. Trying to pick up any sensations from souls that might still linger around that blood-soaked ground.

I wasn't able, back then, to feel anything out of the ordinary. Maybe that's because it just didn't seem real to me, and I had no connection to those poor soldiers, and it had all happened so long ago. Or maybe there was truly nothing there to feel. Maybe it's all a bunch of mumbo jumbo.

Maybe this is simply my imagination, yet another manifestation of my unwillingness to let all this go. Maybe this is just another symptom of my insanity.

But whatever. When I pull into that parking spot, I feel something there. Something that carries me back to that night and forces me to relive it.

I don't struggle, when my ghost bullies me like that. It's actually kind of nice, in a weird way.