I was twenty-two years old when I saw the ghost.
It put its feet on the table and opened a beer. It made itself comfortable. It said, “I live here now.”
The ghost seemed to have appeared like a stranger in my home that day. But it was not an intrusive ghost—it did not rattle chains in the apartment upstairs, nor did it lift light fixtures from the shelves in the living room. It had not even arrived all of the sudden, like an uninvited guest, but from the onset felt as though it had manifest something unseen until just moments before.