In this game, when a player set a record time, their ghost car would appear in future races — driving the exact path they took, over and over, waiting for someone to beat them.
Dad had left a piece of himself there… a challenge and a race I never got to finish.
I remembered the night before he went to the hospital for the last time. We had been playing this very game.
“I don’t feel right, leaving you tomorrow,” he said, trying to hide his worry.
“It’s just a check-up, Dad,” I replied, not knowing those would be our last moments together like this. “You’ll be back before you know it.”
“Promise me something,” he said, suddenly serious. “Promise me you’ll keep racing, even when I’m not here.”
I hadn’t understood then. I did now.
I gripped the controller and took a shaky breath. “Alright, Dad,” I whispered. “Let’s play.”
The countdown started.
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