Where the Other Half Lives

We didn’t know when the ghosts would come, just that they would. There were all the remnants of the past around and about; the boxcars lying dormant a little beyond the station, shrouded by silver birches; the shells of old Jaguars behind a mothballed warehouse not far off, on the other side of the tracks. A long-bricked up mill had been taken back down to the dust and a shiny science school put up in its place. The museum held mummies, the town hall had other secrets. Ghosts were inevitable. I stayed late at the university one night, and a passing colleague warned me to lock the office door. But a lock and a door won’t stop them, I laughed, not even walls will stop them. She looked through me, jangled her keys, and went on her way. I carried on with my work, until I heard the keys again.

Sarah-Clare Conlon

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