Chapter 3

5 0 0
                                    

The next day, Johan woke up at 11, pulled on a pair of jeans and a blank black t-shirt, and ran out the door. Eight hours later, he reappeared just as the sun had begun to set, holding a handful of paper bags full of groceries, which he then methodically put away in the fridge and freezer.

Johan immediately set to work cooking. He seemed stressed out and exhausted. But, as the vegetables sautéed on the stove in front of him, his bad mood also seemed to melt away.

I was wrong about him. Not only does he cook, he seems to genuinely enjoy it.

Johan cooked himself a nice lentil curry with rice. He then set aside one portion for that evening and put the rest in the fridge. While in the fridge, my new roommate grabbed two brown glass bottles of beer. He then sat down on the couch and scarfed down the food, occasionally taking a second or two to ponder the flavor.

He washed down his food with the two beers in rapid succession.

He did all of it in silence.

Then, Johan stood up, went out to the kitchen, and washed his dishes. Once he was done with that task, he looked all around the room.

"I know you're in here," he said.

He reached into the last remaining bag and pulled out a smaller bag. He then placed a bunch of colorful plastic letter-shaped magnets on the fridge. Once the letter magnets were artfully arranged, Johan turned back to the empty space around him, unwittingly looking right through me.

"Oh, spirit, I know you're with me. Please confirm."

I leaned forward and rearranged three of the magnets to spell YES

Watching the letters move, Johan held his breath, but he seemed less terrified than during our previous interactions. It appeared to me that he was quickly coming to terms with having a ghost as his roommate.

"Holy fuck...okay." Johan inhaled through his teeth. "And you don't know your name, right? I'll help you find your name. What, uh, what year did you die in?"

There are no numbers, dumbass, I thought.

I reached forward and spelled out TWO THOUSAND TWELVE.

Johan took out his phone and made a note. The whole time, he looked incredulous.

"2012, you say...and what did you die of? If you don't mind my asking."

I would've laughed at his propriety if I could, but I hadn't been able to make any sounds since I died. I reached forward and rearranged the magnets to say: SUICIDE.

"Whoa...I'm sorry if that brought up any negative memories for you."

Johan's face sunk.

"You know...I've often thought about – nevermind. I'm not going to trauma dump to a ghost. We just met, that's rude."

Shock surged through me. He thought about ending his own life, as well? No wonder he seemed to have given up on life. He literally had.

I rearranged the letters to say DONT KILL YOU

"Yeah? That bad, huh? I really am sorry if I brought up any bad memories for you." Johan massaged his temples. "This is crazy. I'm crazy for doing this. Is, uh, is it okay if I record you? I want to be able to play this back later, just for myself."

YES

"Great, thank you."

Johan set his phone up at a precarious angle on the counter, held up by a bowl of fruit. His phone started to record a video.

Phantom Limbs: A Spicy Ghost StoryΌπου ζουν οι ιστορίες. Ανακάλυψε τώρα