Half-Awake and Half-Alive

Hiding from the police had gotten Sebastian plenty far. Gliding over the houses and streets, disappearing into walls where no one could even steal a peek at him, let alone catch him, he felt weightless, not quite pushed around but also not quite controlling his own body. He'd coast into the house at the end of the lane, peeking up through the floorboards as if the floors weren't even there, before flying back out, dodging clotheslines for no reason other than habit.

Somehow, he expected to be more frightened; armadillos weren't known for leaving the ground much, after all, but really, it was quite peaceful, despite how far away he'd gone and the chase that started it.

Well, before it'd gotten quite dark in what felt like a matter of minutes. Sebastian swooped in under the ground, able to see up through the dirt like before but without a clue as to where he landed. His eyes adjusted to the dark, spotting large, carved rocks side-by-side in various boxy shapes and sizes.

He noticed another just above his head.

Sebastian had landed in a graveyard. He wasn't alone either; the sound of paws approaching, rustling the fallen leaves--just two of them, a single person to join him--got him scanning around the scene, keeping hidden under the soil.

It was the local florist, a haggard, dark grey binturong in perpetual pinstripes. At first, he thought he'd been spotted, but then the binturong simply dragged himself away from the grave plot after dropping off an assorted bouquet of flowers, leaving his ghost by its lonesome.

He finally took a look at the epitaph overhead, the words on it just barely visible in the lack of light: "Sebastian Hugo".

All he could do was float quietly, unsure of what to make of it.