46

I’d never seen a ghost before that summer, when I wound up living with one. The days were hot enough to make you dizzy and the sun burnt your eyes. I often had this itchy feeling behind them, which was distracting. 

After sunset there was a welcome chill. Then, still getting used to the climate, I felt like my head was steaming. I sat about with my attention wavering, cooling down until sleep. Every day when I woke up it was scorching hot again.

The ghost was a gorgeous female, as thin as a fish bone and barely clothed. She came and went as she pleased without ever looking at me. Sharing this small space made me feel that we knew each other intimately. When I saw her wander in and linger, I’d not hide the fact I was watching her, but rather follow her every move.

All the activity out in the streets bothered me. I far preferred the space behind my apartment, where there was a small patio and a cherry blossom. I came to value this scene beyond all reason. When I went out I met a hundred people, all of them strangers, in places where there was never an empty space. Back at home I could feel the evening chill through the soles of my feet, on a patio lit up by moonlight. And when she came and brushed through the doorframe and the curtain there, not seeing me, but knowing I was there. I’d follow her in and stand transfixed by the sight of her.