The sheet collapsed. There was no one under it. The note fluttered to the floor, and the house was finally, truly, empty.
He didn't die; ghosts don't have that luxury. Instead, he fell back into the beginning. The sheet collapsed
He saw himself—living, breathing, stubborn—moving into the house with M. He saw the moment he had tucked a small scrap of paper into a crack in the doorframe, a secret note she would never find. He didn't die; ghosts don't have that luxury
He looked out the window at the house next door. Another figure stood there, draped in a floral-patterned sheet."I’m waiting for someone," the floral ghost signaled through the glass."Who?" C thought."I don't remember," the neighbor replied. He saw the moment he had tucked a
He watched M leave. He watched a new family move in, their laughter like glass shards in his quiet space. He lashed out, shattering plates to reclaim the silence, but they only replaced the porcelain and kept laughing.