Haunting Dorian

05 - Not an Average Joe on Valentine's Day

It was some other Sunday when Dorian was strolling down the street from his house. He'd just gotten home and got out of the way of the men that was installing new windows. He followed the doctor's instructions: get some fresh air, keep a clear mind and for heaven's sake, stay away from heroin. He could still hardly believe what he had done. How was he so stupid?

When he got home, his room was almost exactly as it was when they'd taken him away. Except for the fact that his mother had cleaned up his vomit and the broken glass in front of the windows.

He could only think of one person that could cause such a havoc in an attempt to save him. But since he hadn't seen his savior-ghost sulking around his room, he assumed she was back at school. He would have to catch her the next day.

As he walked, he passed a familiar house. The quirky neighborhood lady, Stacy as Melinda said, was sitting on her porch. Her legs were stretched out over a sofa she'd carried out as she read the freshest newspaper. As she flipped pages, she noticed Dorian and waved him over.

Dorian complied and walked up onto the porch. Stacy set her newspaper down with a friendly smile. "Dorian, right?" He nodded. "Thank you for helping me with my bike. How's your health?"

"You heard, huh?"

"I think everyone heard the sirens, dear. Would you like some tea or coffee? I got cookies too." It was refreshing to not hear someone nag him about his mistake so he accepted the offer and followed her inside.

It was obvious Stacy loved her cat. There was an entire metropolis dedicated to it, with many platforms, scratching posts and tons of room to roam. It took up almost half of the living room and Dorian caught sight of the feline as it slept peacefully between two flowerpots on the windowsill instead. It was as usual for every cat: ignore their toys and occupy every other surface or box-slash-drawer in the house.

"Oh, sit down. I won't bite," Stacy joked while she surfed through her cabinets. Dorian had been standing in the kitchen's doorway, but as if permission was exactly what he'd been waiting for, he sat down. "I think you've been poked and probed enough to last a lifetime. Oh, I didn't catch before if you wanted tea or coffee."

"Tea, please."

"Fantastic, I was thinking that," Stacy cheered and pulled out her box of teabags. "Does it matter what kind of tea?"

"Not really."

"Even better."

As Dorian watched Stacy working on setting up their hot drinks and the cookies she promised, he came to an idea. Stacy knew the ghost girl, or at least that's what Dorian had figured out from what she had told him. Although it didn't sound like they were any great friends when they were teenagers, he was eager to get any information out of her that he could.

"Do you know the house I live in?" Stacy looked over her shoulder at him and nodded.

"Well, of course, rumors aren't all that slow around here. This street is, after all, full of elderly ladies who love to gossip. Actually, that's kind of every street in this town."

"Well, I found some things in the attic." Lie. "Girl's definitely. They also seem quite old. Do you know who they belonged to?"

Stacy placed a plate with cookies in the middle of the table with a thoughtful look. "A girl's? Young?"

"Teen, I guess."

"There haven't been any young people in that house for ages. It could be that they belonged to Melinda Graham. Though I can't think of why her stuff would be in the attic after all this time."