Tuesday, January 5, 2010

Chapter Two. Kitchen Table.

I am sitting at the kitchen table, staring at my ghost. The yellow light of the morning sun drips down on us. I had alway believed that if ghosts did indeed exist, they could only show themselves in the dark; in the dreary corners of a decrepid haunted house and so forth. This, apparently, is not so. The sunlight did not seem to bother my ghost at all.

"I would like this to be a dialog, not just a monologue. How does that sound to you?"

I don't know how to respond to this at all.

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