The Man Who Lives in the Attic

Her best winter coat and gloves.
A rare figurine, Henry Moore copy,
limited edition, Zurich, 1943.

A bottle of sedatives. Her CD
of Joachim Zane. All of this
and more missing in the last week.

She finds the bread left on the
counter, open and stale. Empty
jars and cans in the garbage.

The fridge has been rearranged
and the milk keeps disappearing
though no glasses are dirty.

She imagines him standing in
the dark kitchen. Drinking from
the carton. One arm resting on

the open refrigerator door while
the light from within spills
across his jeans and bare feet.

She sees him roaming the house
in her absence, reading her
letters, touching her clothes.

She suspects that sooner or
later she will have to do
something about him. But the

days have been short this year,
her dreams rich and satisfying,
and he may not be real after all.

Appeared in Asimov's SF Magazine


Regina's picture
Very intriguing and mysteriously penned gem. I have a ghost couple, "living" in my modest home, a man and woman. No joke. I hear them talking to each other, usually in my bedroom. The man-ghost is rambunctious, he nips us at times. I may get my home blessed. Best Wishes for the contest. ☆☆☆☆☆


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Angela Yuriko Smith's picture
I like how you told this story. I haven't decided if she's touched in the head or there is actually a ghost. I'm leaning toward touched in the head with the mention of her lost bottle of sedatives and misplaced items.

Angela Yuriko Smith

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