Ghosting: we do it better (cause we're already dead 😉)

Chapter 1: The Demise of Date Night (and My Celestial Career...Again)

The flickering glow of the celestial monitor cast an unflattering shade of puke green on my face. On screen, a lovestruck high schooler, his profile picture adorned with an obligatory peace sign and a pair of heart-shaped sunglasses, was publicly confessing his undying love to a girl whose bio simply read, "Pumpkin Spice Latte Enthusiast."

"Ugh," I groaned, pinching the bridge of my nose. "Another break-up fueled by basic clichés and an overreliance on emojis."  I glanced around the celestial matchmaking headquarters, a once-grand space now resembling a glorified government office on the verge of bankruptcy. Dusty filing cabinets overflowed with forgotten love stories, and a spectral intern, Mildred, floated listlessly beside a broken crystal ball cobbled together with duct tape and spectral cobwebs.

Mildred, a stern angel with a perpetually pinched expression, sighed dramatically. Her voice, a monotone that rivaled a broken record player, echoed through the cavernous space. "Another failed celestial intervention, Eros. Honestly, at this rate, you'd do better setting up rocks."

My celestial cheeks burned. "It's not my fault!" I protested, waving a dismissive hand. "These kids care more about likes and filters than genuine connection! They swipe left faster than a ghost through a haunted house!"

A deep, booming voice resonated through the room, causing cobwebs to rain down from the celestial ceiling. It was Aphrodite, the ever-glamorous goddess of beauty, lounging on a cloud shaped like a giant seashell. Her perfectly manicured nails tapped impatiently against the pearly surface.

"Eros," she drawled, her voice dripping with disdain, "another matchmaking disaster? Honestly, at this rate, you'd do better setting up rocks – or perhaps spectres. They at least seem to understand the concept of 'forever.'"

I opened my mouth to retort, but Aphrodite cut me off with a flick of her perfectly manicured wrist. "Consider this a celestial boot camp, Eros. You're being transferred. Downstairs. To the Afterlife Dating Agency, or as the mortals so creatively named it, the ADA."

A shiver ran down my nonexistent spine. The ADA was notorious amongst the celestial beings. It was rumored to be a bureaucratic nightmare, a desolate wasteland of lovelorn ghosts and failed relationships. But with Aphrodite's icy glare upon me, I knew I didn't have a choice.

With a dramatic sigh, I rose from my heart shaped office chair(now broken with a crack in the middle), which was supposed to be a client attractive feature(meh!).
As I floated towards the shimmering portal that led to the afterlife, I couldn't help but mutter under my breath, "Maybe setting up rocks wouldn't have been so bad after all. At least they wouldn't break your spectral heart."

Just as I stepped through the portal, a ghostly hand materialized from the ceiling, offering a tattered pamphlet titled "Ghostly Pickup Lines for the Modern Spectre."  A single line jumped out at me in shimmering ectoplasm: "Hey there, beautiful. You might as well be colder than ice, but I find you hotter than hell." 

I winced.  This, I thought, is going to be a long, spectral nightmare.