I woke up the next morning to a perfectly normal room. The lights were steady, the corner was empty, and sunlight streamed through the window like nothing had ever happened. For a second I wondered if the whole thing had been a bizarre dream.
Downstairs, the family was already at breakfast. Dad looked up from his plate with a smirk.
"So, did you get scared last night? You'll never grow up, son."
I felt my face heat up. *No way I'm telling him the truth.*
"Nah, nothing happened," I muttered.
His grin widened. "Great. That means from now on you sleep in your own room, no more excuses."
"…Okay."
Night came far too quickly.
I stood at the bottom of the stairs, staring up into the darkness. *I have to do this. I'm seventeen, not seven.* But my legs felt like lead.
Finally I dragged myself up, checked the corner (empty), crawled into bed, and tried to convince myself last night was just my imagination playing tricks.
Then the bulb in the corner started flickering again.
On… off… on… off… for a full half hour.
*Seriously? What is this ghost's problem?*
A soft voice floated from behind me. "Hey."
I turned—and there she was upside down, floating in mid-air with her messy black hair hanging toward the floor.
"AHHHHHHHHHHHH!"
She flipped right-side up, clapping excitedly. "It still works!"
"Stop doing that or I'll kill you!" I yelled, heart hammering.
*Wait… how do you even kill a ghost?*
She stuck out her lower lip in a pout. "But scaring humans is my job."
I caught my breath. "Then why didn't you manage it properly last night?"
Her cheeks flushed a faint translucent pink and the lights dimmed in embarrassment. "I… tripped."
I couldn't help it—I snorted. "Well, you still scared me."
The lights flickered happily in response.
She floated a little closer, twisting her fingers nervously. "Can I ask you something?"
"Sure."
"Why do you keep staring at my chest?"
"It's nothing!" I blurted, face burning.
She tilted her head, accepting that, then drifted even nearer.
"So why don't you ever go downstairs and scare my family?"
Her expression turned lonely. "I can't leave the second floor. And I can only appear at night."
"Oh."
A small, quiet voice: "I wasn't trying to hurt you, you know. I just… didn't want to be alone."
Something in my chest softened. All the terror from the last night suddenly felt ridiculous.
I yawned despite myself; the adrenaline was finally crashing.
"You should sleep," she said gently.
"Yeah… I think so."
Before I could react, she darted forward and wrapped her arms around me in another quick hug. Once again, something soft, and very round pressed against my face for a split second.
Then she vanished, leaving only the faint scent of old books and a lingering warmth in the air.
I lay there in the dark, wide awake, heart racing for an entirely different reason.
"How the hell am I supposed to sleep now?"