Good-bye Ghost

Mostly, she would miss the bumps in the night, the toppled picture frames, the bookcase knick-knacks nudged from their dusty footprints by the mischievous poltergeist lurking in the upper reaches of her rooms.

She would miss having another spectral shadow to soft-foot through midnight moonbeams with, another restless spirit to help her bear the ticking clock‘s smallest, but longest hours.

She would miss the curdling screams and yowls behind the tinkling bells and squeaks of a bored phantom at play.

She placed the scratch-post down alongside the curb, the soft rain already soaking it’s carpet wrapped wood. She would miss the aisle at the market with its toys and treats, and she would miss the small, gentle spirit droning its joy that she was returned home again safely.

She was happy for the rain to hide her tears from the unfeeling drivers of the passing cars, and from the large-eyed children sitting beside them. She stood a good while in it, recalling the things she would miss, counting them up. If she stood there long enough the cold rain might take her too from an ever lonelier world.

What to do when you've outlived your Ghost?